30  ^- 


s»      c? 

tymm 


o 

^     £? 

%a3Awn- 


\  ^><r  s  f /Or-*!   §  1  irr  -  §  i  ir 
1^1  iCfel   iMil  lAJh 


\V\E-UNIVERS//, 


I-TP   I 


f/Or-'l 
111  0-         g 


Ntm^ 


THE 


SECRET  OF  THE  ANDES 


A    ROMANCE. 


BY    F.    HASSAUREK, 

Author  of  "  Four  Years  among  Spanish  Americans,"  etc. 


CINCINNATI : 
ROBERT    CLARKE    &    CO. 

1879. 


COPYRIGHTED: 

F.    I1ASSAUREK. 

1879. 


STEREOTYPED  BY  CAMPBELL  A  CO,  CIN.,  O. 


THE  SECRET  OF  THE  ANDES. 


BOOK  I. 

DREAMS. 

Que  es  la  vida?     Un  frenesi. 
Que  es  la  vida?     Una  illusion, 
Una  sombra,  una  fiocion 
Y  el  mayor  bien  es  poqueno; 
Que  toda  la  vida  es  sueno 
Y  los  suenos  sueno  son. 

CALDERON  DE  LA  BARGA,  La  vida  es  Sueno. 


BOOK  I. 

DREAMS. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

STORM   CLOUDS. 

IT  was  in  the  spring  of  1592.  The  city  of  Quito,  in 
the  Spanish  Yiceroyalty  of  Peru,  in  South  America,  was 
trembling  with  excitement.  Angry  crowds  of  wildly  ges 
ticulating  men,  of  high  and  low  degree,  filled  the  public 
squares  and  blockaded  the  streets.  Defiant  exclamations, 
such  as  " Down  with  the  Alcabala!  Death  to  the  Chape- 
tones!"  (natives  of  Spain),  were  heard  in  every  direction. 
A  new  member  of  the  Eoyal  Audience,  the  supreme 
judicial  and  executive  tribunal  of  the  Province,  had  just 
arrived  from  Spain.  He  had  brought  official  confirmation 
of  the  report  that  a  great  and  crying  breach  of  faith  was 
contemplated  by  the  Home  Government.  The  crushing 
tax  called  Alcabala  was  to  be  introduced  in  the  Viceroyalty 
of  Peru  !  And  yet,  by  an  express  stipulation  of  the  Eoyal 
grant  to  Don  Francisco  Pizarro,  the  conqueror,  Peru  was 
to  be  exempted  from  the  imposition  of  the  Alcabala  for  one 
hundred  years,  which  term  had  not  yet  expired,  and  would 
not  expire  during  the  lifetime  of  this  generation. 

The  people  of  Quito  were  impoverished  and  in  debt. 
Their  fathers  had  been  disappointed  of  their  golden  ex 
pectations.  The  men  of  Benalcazar  had  founded  the  city 
in  the  vain  hope  of  discovering,  sooner  or  later,  the  hid 
den  treasure  of  Atahualpa  and  Euminagui.  To  that  ignis 
fatuus  they  had  sacrificed  the  lives  of  thousands  of  unfor- 

(3) 


4  •    THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

tunate  Indians.  For  that  unattainable  object  the  first  set 
tlers  had  impoverished  themselves  by  long  and  fruitless 
explorations,  and  by  the  neglect  of  more  useful  and  legit 
imate  pursuits.  Now,  coined  money  had  become  almost  a 
curiosity  among  them.  Their  business  transactions  were 
reduced  to  a  most  primitive  system  of  barter  and  ex 
change.  Could  such  a  people  afford  to  pay  a  tax  of  four 
or  more  per  cent,  on  all  sales — a  tax  which  was  levied 
and  re-levied  on  the  same  article  as  often  as  it  changed 
hands,  until  it  reached  its  final  consumer?  Impossible! 
Death  in  battle  was  preferable  to  slow  starvation.  The 
Alcabala  must  not  be  collected.  Besistance — forcible  re 
sistance — was  the  general  cry.  It  was  taken  up  eagerly 
by  hundreds  of  old  soldiers  who  had  served  in  the  civil 
wars  of  the  conquerors,  and  of  whom  many  who  had 
fought  on  the  losing  side  were  left  penniless,  and  ready  to 
engage  in  any  brawl  that  promised  rapine  and  booty. 

It  was  about  an  hour  after  sunset,  when  two  young 
gentlemen,  of  the  highest  nobility,  on  their  way  to  the 
Plaza  of  San  Francisco,  elbowed  themselves  through  the 
throngs  of  indignant  and  excited  men.  The  one  was  Don 
Julio  de  Carrera,  perhaps  the  best  liked  young  cavalier 
of  Quito,  modest,  affable,  refined,  a  lover  of  books  in  an  age 
of  barbarism,  honest  and  honorable.  Beloved,  although 
penniless,  his  father  having  died  in  poverty,  the  young 
man  depended  on  the  liberality  of  an  uncle,  a  childless 
bachelor,  and,  next  to  the  Marquis  de  Solando,  the  richest 
man  of  the  whole  province.  The  other  was  Carrera's 
intimate  friend,  Don  .Roberto  Sanchez,  an  impulsive,  high- 
spirited,  frank,  and  dashing  youth,  the  son  of  Don  Alonzo 
Sanchez,  who  was  an  influential  member  of  the  Cabildo, 
or  Municipal  Council  of  Quito,  famous  for  his  eloquence, 
and  known  as  one  of  the  boldest  and  most  determined  op 
ponents  of  the  contemplated  introduction  of  the  Alcabala. 

The  two  young  gentlemen  arrested  their  steps  before 
the  mansion  of  the  Marquis  de  Solando,  where  they  in- 


BOOK    I.       DREAMS.  5 

tended  to  spend  the  evening.  The  great  wealth  of  the 
Marquis  and  the  extraordinary  attractions  of  his  daughter, 
Dolores,  had  given  him  the  leading  position  in  the  society 
of  Quito.  His  daily  evening  receptions  (tertulias)  were 
attended  by  a  larger  circle  than  those  at  any  other  house. 
This  evening,  too,  a  very  numerous  company  was  assembled 
when  the  two  young  cavaliers  entered  the  salon.  The  la 
dies  of  the  house  excepted,  the  party  consisted  exclusively 
of  gentlemen,  who  eagerly  discussed  the  all-absorbing 
topic  of  the  day.  The  Marquis,  a  thorough  loyalist,  ad 
vocated  submission.  The  Senor  Alonzo  Sanchez,  the 
father  of  young  Eoberto,  who  had  just  entered,  spoke  en 
ergetically  in  favor  of  resistance,  and  was  warmly  sup 
ported  by  most  of  the  gentlemen  present.  High  words 
passed,  and  the  discussion  threatened  to  become  loud  and 
angry,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  a  new  visitor,  whose 
presence  and  official  character  forbade  its  renewal.  This 
newcomer  was  the  Count  Joaquin  do  Valverde,  a  young 
officer  of  the  best  blue  blood  of  Spain,  who  had  been  sent 
by  the  Viceroy  of  Peru  to  command  the  Spanish  arque- 
busiers  and  other  regular  troops  stationed  at  Quito,  and  to 
instruct  the  native  militia.  The  young  nobleman  had 
come  to  America  to  recuperate  his  broken  fortunes,  but  as 
he  stood  high  in  the  favor  of  the  all-mighty  Viceroy,  the 
Count's  future  was  considered  secured,  and  the  mothers  of 
marriageable  daughters  looked  upon  him  as  one  of  the 
highest  prizes  attainable  in  the  matrimonial  lottery.  This 
prize,  however,  it  was  generally  believed,  would  fall  to  the 
lot  of  Dolores  Solando,  for  whose  favor  Count  Valverde 
had  but  two  prominent  rivals,  the  Senor  Don  Julio  de 
Carrera,  and  the  Senor  Don  Manuel  Paredes,  who  was 
among  the  visitors  in  the  room,  and  will  presently  be  in 
troduced  to  the  reader. 


THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTEK  11. 

THE  MYSTERIOUS   QUEEN. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  be  the  first,"  said  Dona  Dolores  to  Count 
Valverde,  after  the  customary  exchange  of  salutations,  "  to 
tell  your  Excellency  the  news  of  the  great  adventure  our 
friend,  the  Sefior  Carrera,  has  met  with." 

'•'I  shall  be  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  the  Count,  not  at 
all  edified  by  the  prospect  of  hearing  an  adventure  dis 
cussed  of  which  he  was  not  himself  the  hero. 

"Your  Excellency  must  know  that  the  Sefior  Carrera  is 
fond  of  solitary  rambles.  He  is  a  poet,  Senor  Count,  and 
we  all  admire  his  verses.  He  loves  to  explore  the  lonely 
recesses  of  Mount  Pichincha;  and  there  he  met  with  his 
wonderful  adventure.  He  came  upon  a  maiden  radiant 
with  beauty,  an  apparition  from  Fairy  Land.  He  has 
been  in  love  with  her  ever  since,  and  the  ladies  of  Quito 
are  dying  with  jealousy.  The  maiden,  of  course,  was  un 
known  to  him,  and,  what  makes  his  adventure  more  mys 
terious,  she  was  an  Indian." 

"  An  Indian  ?" 

"  Yes,  Senor  Count,  an  Indian  of  exquisite  beauty,  maj 
esty,  and  grace.  He  had  come  upon  her  suddenly,  near 
the  entrance  of  a  ravine.  'He  stood  before  her  struck 
dumb  with  admiration.  Still,  we  suspect  he  would  have 
recovered  his  faculty  of  speech.  We  are  even  inclined  to 
believe  that  he  would,  upon  the  spot,  have  made  a  declara 
tion  of  love,  had  not  the  wonderful  ci'eature  suddenly  and 
most  capriciously  and  unaccountably  disappeared." 

"  Disappeared  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sefior  Count,  disappeared,  vanished  into  nothing- 


BOOK    I.      DREAMS.  7 

ness,  sailed  away  in  a  cloud,  or  sunk  into  the  center  of 
the  earth.  Was  it  not  provoking?  The  belt  of  Senor 
Can-era's  sword  broke  at  the  most  inconvenient  moment, 
and  caused  that  bloody  weapon  to  drop  to  the  ground. 
He  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  when  he  looked  up  again 
the  apparition  was  gone.  There  was  no  trace  of  her  any 
where.  There  was  no  bush,  no  tree,  no  rock  in  the  ravine 
behind  which  she  might  have  hidden  herself,  and  yet  she 
was  gone,  vanished  into  air,  as  I  said.  What  does  your 
Excellency  think  of  it?" 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  Count,  "  it  was  not  one  of  Senor  Car- 
rera's  poetic  fancies,  inspired  by — " 

"  No,  Senor  Count,"  interrupted  Dolores,  "  there  is  proof 
positive  and  tangible-  of  the  reality  of  the  apparition — a 
dagger  found  by  his  Grace  on  the  very  spot  where  the 
maiden  had  stood.  We  have  made  him  produce  the  corpus 
delicti.  There  it  is." 

"  This  is  Moorish  steel,"  said  the  Count,  examining  the 
weapon  w'ith  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur,  "  of  excellent  temper 
and  approved  fashion.  How  could  it  fall  into  the  hands 
of  an  Indian  ?" 

"  Ah  !  this  is  the  very  complication  of  the  mystery, 
Seiior  Count,"  rejoined*  Dolores,  who  loved  to  address  her 
self  to  the  representative  of  real,  genuine,  old-country  no 
bility.  "  We  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  that  won- 
dei'ful  Indian  must  either  be  a  witch  or  the  mysterious 
Shyri  Queen  of  Quito,  of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much 
and  seen  nothing." 

"  She  may  be  both,"  added  the  Sefiora  Catita,  the  aunt  of 
Dolores,  who  sat  beside  her  on  the  sofa. 

''  To  my  shame,  I  must  confess  to  your  Ladyships,"  an 
swered  the  Count,  "not  to  have  heard  of  this  Shyri 
Queen." 

"Your  Excellency  has  not  resided  with  us  long  enough," 
resumed  Dolores,  "to  become  familiar  with  our  Indian  tra- 


8  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

ditions.  The  Shyri  Queen  is  supposed  to  be  a  grand 
daughter  of  Atahualpa,  the  Inca,  secretly  brought  up  in 
the  family  of  some  great  cacique,  or  among  the  unsubdued 
Indians  of  our  oriental  provinces,  so  as  to  prevent  her  from 
being  seized  by  the  authorities.  The  Indians  of  the  an 
cient  empire  of  Quito  recognize  and  revere  that  mythical 
queen  as  their  rightful  sovereign.  At  her  command  they 
would  rise  in  rebellion;  at  her  command  they  would  kill 
us  all,  and  burn  our  houses  if  they  could.  Her  mere 
name,  whether  she  b.e  a  myth  or  a  reality,  is  a  threat  to  the 
peace  and  security  of  these  provinces." 

"  And  why  do  they  call  her  the  Shyri  Queen,  if  your 
Ladyships  will  allow  me?" 

"Her  ancestors,  the  ancient  kings  of  Quito,  were  called 
Shyris.  Their  kingdom  was  overthrown  by  the  Peruvian 
Incus  about  forty  years  before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards. 
The  last  Shyri  was  slain  in  battle.  His  only  child,  a 
daughter,  was  taken  for  a  wife  by  the  victorious  Inca,  and 
thus  became  the  mother  of  Atahualpa.  But  it  is  not  the 
mysterious  Indian  Queen  or  Princess,  it  is  her  dowry, 
Senor  Count,  in  which  we  are  principally  and  intensely  in 
terested.  If  there  is  such  a  being  as  the  Shyri  Queen,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  although  no  white  man  or  woman 
has  ever  seen  her,  she  possesses  the  secret  of  the  hidden 
treasure  of  Atahualpa,  for  which  our  gentlemen  have  been 
searching  in  vain  during  three  generations.  What  a  grand 
discovery  it  would  be,  if  her  disappearance  where  the 
Senor  Carrera  had  seen  her,  should  indicate  the  presence 
of  a  subterranean  passage,  through  which  the  treasure 
might  be  reached.  Come,  Senor  Sanchez,  you  are  learned 
in  history,  and  can  speak  from  a  knowledge  of  the  chroni 
cles  of  the  Cabildo,  give  his  Excellency  an  account  of  what 
is  known  of  the  origin  and  character  of  that  treasure." 

"Let  me  beg  of  your  Grace,"  insisted  the  Count. 

"O,  please  do !"  shouted  the  compan}*;   and  all  leaned 


BOOK    I.      DREAMS.  9 

forward  eagerly  to  listen  to  an  authoritative  statement  of 
the  great  problem  of  their  lives,  the  one  great  object  of 
their  aspirations.  They  all  had  heard  the  story  before. 
They  had  listened  to  it  many  a  time.  They  were  familiar 
with  all  its  details ;  but  they  never  grew  tired  of  listening 
to  it  again.  They  could  not  hear  it  often  enough.  They 
drank  in  every  word,  as  it  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  venera 
ble  Alcalde. 


CHAPTER  III. 

EVIDENCE. 

"  YOUR  Excellency  is,  of  course,  familiar,"  began  Senor 
Sanchez,  the  Father,  "  with  the  circumstances  of  the  orig 
inal  conquest  of  Peru.  Atahualpa  was  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  Don  Francisco  Pizarro  at  Cajamarca,  and  being 
a  man  of  natural  shrewdness,  the  Inca  could  not  fail  to 
observe  the  great  greed  of  our  people  for  gold,  and  the 
thought  struck  him  that  through  this  he  might  gain 
his  liberty.  Hence  he  proposed  .  that,  as  his  ransom, 
he  would  fill  the  room  in  which  they  kept  him,  as  high 
as  his  arms  could  reach,  with  vessels  and  ornaments 
of  gold  and  silver.  To  bring  these  treasures  together, 
orders  were  sent  to  all  parts  of  the  empire  to  rifle  the 
palaces  and  temples  of  their  precious  contents  and 
send  them  to  Cajamarca.  These  orders  were  obeyed 
everywhere  except  here  in  Quito.  And  yet  here,  where 
the  great  Inca,  Huyanacapac,  Atahualpa's  father,  had 
spent  the  last  thirty  years  of  his  prosperous  reign,  immense 
treasures  had  been  accumulated.  But  a  usurper  had  seized 
the  reins  of  government  here,  and  refused  to  comply  with 
the  royal  mandate.  This  usurper  was  Euminagui,  a  name 
which,  in  the  Quichtia  language,  means  "  The  eye  or  face 


10  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

of  stone."  He  was  a  great  general,  who  had  been  with 
Atahualpa  when  the  poor  Inca  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 
cunning  stratagem  of  Don  Francisco  Pizarro.  Euminagui 
was  in  command  of  the  army  stationed  at  Cajamarca  ;  but 
without  attempting  to  strike  a  blow  for  his  master,  he  re 
treated  to  this  pi-ovince,  with  the  intent  of  making  him 
self  the  King  or  Shyri  of  Quito.  He  seized  the  royal 
treasures  and  the  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  killed  all  the  wives, 
sisters,  brothers,  cousins,  and  other  relatives  of  Atahualpa, 
and  considered  himself  secure  in  his  usurpation,  in  view 
of  the  small  number  of  foreign  invaders  by  whom  the  Inca 
had  allowed  himself  to  be  entrapped.  Eumiuagui  offered 
a  desperate  and  very  skillful  resistance  to  the  Spanish 
troops  that  were  sent  against  him  ;  but  when  he  found  that 
these  invaders  were  irresistible,  and  that  all  his  efforts  were 
unavailing,  he  killed  the  Virgins  of  the  Sun  so  that  they 
should  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  and  he  hid 
or  buried  the  great  treasure  of  Quito  somewhere  in  the 
mountains.  To  this  present  day  nobody  has  discovered 
where,  although  the  search  has  been  incessant.  Euminagui 
was  captured  and  put  to  the  rack ;  but  an  Indian  never  re 
veals  a  secret  of  his  race.  He  died  without  opening  his  lips. 
Hundreds  of  his  captains  and  followers  were  tortured  until 
they  expired;  but  either  they  did  not  know  the  secret  or 
they  would  not  reveal  it.  And  so  our  men  of  high  and 
low  degree  are  still  delving  and  burrowing  in  the  earth; 
but  thus  far  to  no  avail.  We  know  that  the  treasure 
existed — hundreds  of  Indian  eye-witnesses  admitted  that. 
We  know  that  it  must  be  hidden  somewhere,  but  we  are 
unable  to  find  it." 

A  long  pause  followed,  during  which  each  of  the  com 
pany  seemed  to  be  pondering  over  the  great  secret  and 
dreaming  the  dream  of  its  discovery.  The  silence  was  at 
last  broken  by  the  Count. 

"  I  must  trouble  your  Grace  with  a  question.     I  heard, 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  11 

while  in  Lima,  that  the  scepter  of  the  Incas  could  not  de 
scend  to  a  female,  and  yet  their  Ladyships  speak  of  a,  Shyri 
Queen  as  the  successor  of  Atahualpa." 

"Your  Excellency  is  right  as  to  the  law  of  Peru,  which 
several  hundred  years  ago  was  also  the  law  of  the  kingdom 
of  Quito ;  but  it  was  changed  by  the  eleventh  Shyri,  who 
had  no  sons,  brothers,  or  nephews,  but  an  only  daughter 
by  the  name  of  Toa,  to  whom  he  was  fondly  devoted.  In 
order  to  secure  her  succession,  he  made  a  new  law,  which 
received  the  sanction  of  all  the  great  nobles  of  the  realm. 
It  stipulated  that  upon  the  extinction  of  the  male  line,  the 
Shyri's  daughter  should  succeed  her  father  and  reign 
jointly  with  the  husband  of  her  own  free  and  untram- 
meled  choice.  The  husband  whom  the  old  Shyri  recom 
mended  to  his  daughter  Toa,  was  Duchicela,  eldest  son  of 
Cundurazu,  King  of  Parruha,  a  kingdom  extending  from 
Riobamba  to  Paita  and  the  coast.  By  this  marriage  the 
two  crowns  were  united,  and  the  house  of  Duchicela  was 
thus  placed  upon  the  throne  of  Quito.  The  mysterious 
granddaughter  of  Atahualpa,  if  she  does  exist,  may  confer 
the  Indian  kingdom  of  Quito  in  a  similar  manner  by  the 
free  bestowal  of  her  hand." 

"  Aud  she  might,"  interrupted  Dolores,  "  bestow  it  on 
his  Grace,  the  Senor  de  Carrera,  the  only  cavalier  to 
whom,  thus  far,  she  seems  to  have  shown  herself.  How 
would  your  Grace  fancy  the  title  of  Don  Julio  I  of  the 
house  of  Carrera  and  Duchicela,  Shyri-Inca  of  Quito  and 
Purruha  ?" 

A  burst  of  laughter  rewarded  this  pleasantry,  while 
Carrera  blushed  and  looked  uneasy.  Some  of  the  gentle 
men  seemed  inclined  to  elaborate  the  suggestion  ;  but  Do 
lores  was  too  prudent  to  allow  it,  and  turned  the  conver 
sation  back  into  its  original  channel. 

"Your  Excellency  must  not  believe  that  we  Creoles  in 
vent  all  these  wonderful  stories.  The  Indians  firmly  be 
lieve  in  the  existence  of  their  Shyri  Queen,  and  I  can  only 


12  THE    SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

say  I  share  their  belief.  Let  me  furnish  your  Excellency 
with  a  living  witness  of  my  faith.  There  is  my  nurse, 
Mama  Santos,  an  Indian  of  high  nobility.  She  is  a  grand 
daughter  of  Cozopangui,  who  was  governor  of  Quito  under 
Atahualpa  and  Ruminagui.  Call  her,  Raimundo.  She 
will  tell  your  Lordships  what  she  has  told  me  a  hundred 
times,  no  more,  no  less.  She  will  betray  no  secret  of  her 
race,  if  she  knows  any,  but  she  will  bear  testimony  to  the 
reality  of  the  Shyri  Queen." 

Mama  Santos,  who  now  made  her  appearance,  and  at 
the  command  of  Dolores  took  her  station  behind  the  sofa, 
was  a  woman  of  uncertain  age,  like  all  Indian  women 
after  they  have  passed  their  teens.  Her  features  had 
probably  been  beautiful  once,  but  her  beauty  had  faded. 
Her  eyes  were  still  attractive,  and  bore  an  expression  of 
sadness  and  resignation.  Her  bearing  was  full  of  defer 
ence,  but  self-possessed,  dignified,  and  indicative  of  quiet 
determination. 

"  Mama  Santos  !  These  gentlemen  wish  to  take  a  glass  of 
wine  with  thee  in  honor  of  the  royal  house  of  Atahualpa- 
Duchieela.  Raimundo !  A  goblet  for  Mania  Santos !  Fill 
the  glasses  of  these  gentlemen  !" 

Mama  Santos  bowed  impassively,  and  taking  her  glass, 
she  said:  "Your  Lordships  honor  me  by  your  kindness. 
May  your  Lordships  live  many  years!" 

"Thy  good  health,  Mama  Santos,"  said  Carrera,  "and 
honor  to  the  memory  of  thy  ancient  kings." 

"Mama  Santos,"  continued  Dolores,  "wilt  thou  tell 
these  gentlemen  who  would  now  be  entitled  to  wear  the 
royal  diadem  of  the  Shyris,  if  this  country  did  not  belong 
to  our  Lord,  the  King  of  Spain?" 

"  The  Lady  Toa  Duchicela  is  the  successor  of  Atahualpa 
Niuita*  Doloritas." 

"  Who  is  the  Lady  Toa  Duchicela  ?"  resumed  Dolores. 
^J'She  is  the  granddaughter  of  Atahualpa." 

*  An  endearing,  and  yet  respectful  diminutive. 


BOOK   I.       DREAMS.  13 

"Hast  thou  ever  seen  her?" 

"'No!" 

"How  dost  thon  know,  then,  that  she  lives?" 

"How  does  Niuita  know  that  King  Philip  II  lives? 
Niflita  has  never  seen  him." 

"Bravo!  bravo!"  exclaimed  the  Marquis.  "Well  said, 
Mama  Santos." 

"  But  there  is  a  gentleman  here,  Mamita,"  answered 
Dolores,  "who  has  seen  him.  This  is  the  count  Valverde, 
Mamita,  a  gentleman  from  Spain,  who  has  seen  His 
Majesty  very  often." 

"  I  am  your  Lordship's  servant,"  said  Santos,  with  a 
graceful  bow. 

"  Where  is  the  Shyri  Toa  now,  Mamita?"  asked  Dolores. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Nina." 

"  Wouldst  thou  know  her  if  thou  shouldst  see  her?" 

"  I  can  not  tell,  Nina." 

"  Suppose  a  common  Indian  should  pretend  to  be  the 
Shyri  Toa." 

"  No  Indian  woman  would  do  that,  Nina." 

"Suppose  the  Shyri  Toa  should  die,  how  wouldst  thou 
know  it  ?;! 

"  I  should  soon  know  it,  Nina." 

"But  how?" 

"  How  would  Nina  Doloritas  learn  of  the  death  of  His 
Majesty  of  Spain.  Somebody  would  tell  her.  Somebody 
would  tell  me  that  the  Shyri  Toa  was  dead." 

"  Is  she  married  ?  " 

"No,  Nina." 

"  Not  married !  Seiior  Don  Julio  de  Carrera  !  Take 
heed  of  this  important  statement.  The  Shyri  Toa  is  still 
at  liberty  to  bestow  upon  your  Grace  her  hand  and  kingly 
title.  Many  thanks,  Mamita  Santos.  We  shall  not  detain 
thee  any  longer." 

Mama  Santos  returned  her  glass  to  the  servant,  bowed 
to  the  company,  and  withdrew.  At  this  moment  the  clock 


14  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

of  San  Francisco  struck  ten.  A  horn  was  sounded  in  the 
street;  ever}'  one  in  the  room  became  silent,  and  the  voice 
of  the  watchman  w:is  heard  to  sing  : 

"Ave  Maria,  Santisima! 

Las  diez  ban  dado, 

Noche  clara  y  serena, 

Viva  el  Hey  de  Espana!  "* 

"  The  stay-bell !  "  exclaimed  all  the  gentlemen. 

"  We  have  taken  no  heed  of  the  flight  of  time,"  said 
Senor  Sanchez.  "  How  embarrassing.  I  had  no  idea  it 
was  so  late." 

"  You  are  my  prisoners,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Marquis, 
"and  I  shall  keep  you  under  arrest  till  morning." 


CHAPTEE  IT. 

X 

GAMBLING. 

After  the  ringing  of  the  stay-bell  (toque  de  la  queda}  the 
use  of  the  streets  was  forbidden  by  municipal  ordinance  to 
the  inhabitants  of  Quito  and  other  Peruvian  towns.  Heavy 
penalties  awaited  the  transgressor.  If  armed,  his  arms 
were  to  be  taken  from  him;  if  unarmed,  he  was  to  be  put 
in  the  stocks  for  a  number  of  days.  A  third  repetition  of 
the  offense  was  to  be  visited  with  banishment.  The  turbu 
lence  of  the  original  conquerors,  their  frequent  insurrections 
and  civil  wars,  and  the  violence  and  licentiousness  of  the 
soldiers  of  fortune  who  had  participated  in  these  com 
motions,  made  it  necessary  to  enforce  such  regulations, 
with  great  severity,  against  persons  of  all  ranks,  and  es 
pecially  against  those  who  enjoyed  the  high  privilege  of 
bearing  arms.  Hence  when  visitors  had  lingered  at  the 

*Ave  Maria,  most  holy.  The  clock  has  struck  ten.  The  night  is 
calm  and  clear.  Long  live  the  King  of  Spain. 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  15 

houses  of  their  friends  until  it  was  too  late  to  go  home,  it 
became  a  duty  of  hospitality  to  provide  them  with  accom 
modations  for  the  night. 

This  duty  the  Marquis  most  attentively  complied  with. 
His  house  was  one  of  the  largest  at  Quito,  and  might  have 
accommodated  double  the  number  of  guests  ;  but  the  gentle 
men  present,  after  a  graceful  recognition  of  the  kindness 
and  liberality  of  their  noble  host,  soon  relinquished  the 
thought  of  retiring  to  bed-rooms,  but  crowded  around  the 
card-table,  which  in  those  times  possessed  the  same  irre 
sistible  fascination  for  Spanish-Americans  that  it  exerts 
nowadays.  Even  the  ladies,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Marchioness,  who,  being  an  invalid,  soon  excused  herself 
and  withdrew,  took  part  in  the  exciting  pastime.  Carrera 
alone,  for  a  while,  contented  himself  with  the  part  of  a 
looker-on.  He  had  vainly  attempted  to  address  a  few 
words  privately  to  Dolores,  who  skillfully  eluded  him  and 
divided  her  attentions  with  becoming  impartiality.  The 
young  gentleman,  disappointed  in  his  attempts,  then  drew 
his  friend,  Roberto  Sanchez,  into  one  of  the  deep  win 
dow-embrasures  to  ask  him  for  a  loan  of  money.  "  I 
hardly  dare  to  ask  thee  for  an  additional  favor,"  he  said, 
"  but  how  can  I  exclude  myself?  If  I  lose,  it  may  be 
some  time  before  I  can  repay  thee.  I  want  but  a  trifle  to 
keep  up  appearances.  Still,  do  not  inconvenience  thyself, 
unless  thou  art  fully  able  to  help  me  out." 

"  Most  assuredly,"  answered  Eoberto,  "  I  shall  help  thee 
out  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  But  beware  of  that  villain, 
Paredes.  He  and  that  Spanish  Count  must  be  watched 
closely.  I  should  not  trust  either  of  them,  unless  I  could 
keep  my  eyes  on  them  steadily." 

The  game  had  commenced,  first  moderate!}7,  but  soon  in 
creasing  in  intensity  and  passion,  until  it  had  completely 
riveted  the  attention  of  the  players  to  the  exclusion  of 
everything  else.  So  much  has  been  said  and  written  on 
the  theory  of  luck,  that  it  would  be  fruitless  labor  to 


16  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

add  to  the  literature  of  the  subject.  Why  some  men  will 
alway  lose,  while  others  will  nearl}-  always  win,  is  one  of 
the  problems  that  are  doomed  to  remain  unsolved.  Poor 
Carrera  was  one  of  those  who  almost  always  lost.  For 
some  time  he  held  his  own  that  evening,  but  at  last  the  tide 
set  in  against  him,  until  the  loan  from  Sanchez  was  nearly 
exhausted.  Then  came  a  brief  run  of  luck,  but  it  was  cut 
short  by  his  turn  to  take  the  bank.  His  rivals,  the  Span 
ish  Count  and  Manuel  Paredes,  now  played  strongly 
against  the  banker,  and  when  his  turn  closed,  he  was  in 
volved  in  a  heavy  debt  to  Paredes,  and  had  but  a  few  pieces 
left  to  continue  the  hopeless  struggle. 

The  ladies  withdrew  unnoticed,  and  the  game  went  on. 
A  collation  was  served  at  one  o'clock  which  was  rapidly 
taken.  The  Marquis  and  nearly  all  his  guests,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Spanish  Count  and  the  Senor  Manuel 
Paredes,  lost  heavily.  To  these  two  the  battle  for  the 
spoils  seemed  to  be  confined,  and  was  waged  with  con 
tinually  fluctuating  success.  As  to  Carrera,  it  was  a  repeti 
tion  of  his  old  experience;  hope  deferred,  anger,  mortifica 
tion,  cautious  timidity  alternating  with  the  imprudence 
and  recklessness  of  despair,  silent  self-reproaches,  and  bitter 
remorse,  coupled  with  vows  to  abstain  forever  afterward 
often  made,  and  broken  as  often  as  they  are  made,  and  a 
sinking  heart  while  he  forced  a  sickly  smile  on  his  lips, 
and  endeavored  to  appear  composed.  His  hands  and  feet 
were  cold,  while  his  head  was  burning.  Deeper  and 
deeper  he  became  involved  in  debt  to  Paredes,  vainly 
hoping  that  his  luck  would  change  at  last.  And  so  the 
game  was  kept  up  until  daylight  broke  upon  the  scene,  and 
chocolate  was  served  to  the  exhausted  players. 

When  Carrera  left  the  house  of  the  Marquis,  he  owed 
a  hundred  and  fifty  ducats  to  Paredes  in  addition  to  his 
debt  to  Sanchez  the  younger,  a  formidable  sum  of  money 
in  those  days. 

Haggard,  pale,  wearied,  crushed,  he  threw  himself  upon 


BOOK   I.       DREAMS.  17 

his  couch,  and  tossed  about  restlessly;  but  sleep  would  not 
come  to  his  relief  and  silence  the  voice  of  remorse.  The 
cards  still  danced  before  his  eyes,  and  the  monotonous 
exclamations  of  the  players  reverberated  in  his  ears.  Had 
he  but  conquered  his  false  shame,  and  refused  to  play! 
Had  he  but  stopped  after  the  loan  of  Sanchez  was  exhausted. 
The  question,  "How  shall  I  pay  these  debts?"  again 
and  again  arose  before  his  mind,  and  his  racked  imagina 
tion  suggested  no  solution.  Would  he  have  to  tell  his 
uncle  ?  Must  he  appear  before  that  stern  and  austere  man 
and  accuse  himself  of  reckless  profligacy?  His  uncle  was 
a  devoutly  religious  man.  .The  convents  entertained  high 
expectations  of  rich  endowments  from  him.  Would  he  not 
devote  his  fortune  to  works  of  faith  and  charity  rather 
than  bestow  it  on  the  spendthrift  who  had  no  idea  of  the 
value  of  wealth  or  of  the  difficulties  of  its  acquisition. 

And  now,  the  physical  effects  of  dissipation  added  misery 
to  Carrera's  mental  agony.  His  head  throbbed  and  ached, 
and  shivering  he  covered  himself  with  additional  blankets, 
and  lay  waking,  fretting,  despairing,  disgusted  with  himself 
and  the  world,  while  the  busy  hum  of  life  had  revived  in 
the  streets,  and  the  glaring  rays  of  the  equatorial  sun 
broke  through  his  windows. 


CHAPTEK  V. 

A   BARREN   DISCOVERY. 

The  day  was  far  advanced,  when  Carrera  rose  from  his 
bed.  He  summoned  his  Indian  servant,  and  ordered  him 
to  bring  his  breakfast. 

"  How  pale  }'uu  look,  Master,"  said  the  boy.  "  Is  your 
Lordship  sick  ?" 

<;  I  am  not  aware  of  it." 


18  THE  SECRET  OP  THE  ANDES. 

"  Yes,  Master,  your  Lordship  looks  very  pale.  Your 
eyes  are  dim.  Your  step  is  uncertain.  If  3-011  are  sick, 
Master,  you  had  better  consult  Mama  Eucu  ;  she  will  make 
your  Lordship  well." 

"Dost  thou  think  so,  Mariano?" 

"  Yes,  Master,"  replied  the  boy.  "  I  know  it.  "When 
the  plague  ravaged  the  country  a  few  years  ago,  she  saved 
every  one  who  came  to  her,  while  all  those  who  took  the 
medicines  of  your  white  leeches,  died.  She  cured  me, 
Master,  when  my  own  mother  had  given  me  up." 

When  the  Lord  had  abandoned  Saul,  his  despair  prompted 
him  to  consult  the  witch  of  Endor. 

"  Fleeter e,  si  nequeo  superos,  Acheronta  movebo."  Not 
those  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity,  but  those 
around  whom  the  clouds  of  adversity  gather,  will  seek 
aid  or  advice  from  the  powers  of  darkness.  The  card- 
player,  especially,  is  naturally  prone  to  superstition.  It 
was  customary  in  those  times  to  consult  Moorish  Astrolo 
gers,  fortune-tellers,  and  Indian  sorcerers.  The  Church 
fulminated  its  censures  against  these  practices,  but  even 
the  Church  was  powerless  against  the  weaknesses  of  the 
human  mind,  as  it  had  been  powerless  against  its  vanities. 

Mama  Rucu,  the  great  Indian  sorceress,  whom  pries' s 
and  nobles  had  consulted  in  sickness  and  distress,  and 
whose  immunity  rested  on  her  real  or  supposed  knowl 
edge  of  the  secrets  of  all  the  leading  families  of  Quito, 
would  she  be  able  to  help  him  ?  Probably  not.  flow 
should  she?  And  yet,  why  should  he  not  try?  Even  if 
she  gave  him  no  satisfaction,  he  would  lose  nothing  by  the 
experiment.  He  still  could  fall  back  On  his  last  and  only 
resort,  the  dreaded  confession  to  his  uncle.  But  she  might 
give  him  a  charm  to  soften  that  stern  man.  Yes,  he  would 
consult  the  old  witch  ;  and,  this  resolution  once  arrived  at, 
he  determined  to  carry  it  out  immediately.  He  also  de 
termined  to  avoid  his  friends,  as  much  as  possible,  until  he 


BOOK    I.      DREAMS.  19 

had  seen  his  uncle  and  obtained  the  means  from  him  to 
pay  his  debts  of  honor.  And  then  he  would  forever  re 
nounce  gambling.  Why  should  he  play?  Was  he  not  a 
lover  of  books?  Did  they  not  look  sadly  at  him  from 
their  shelves,  reproaching  him  with  having  neglected  their 
delightful  companionship  of  late?  No,  he  would  return 
to  his  silent  friends  again,  and  remain  faithful  to  them 
hereafter.  He  snatched  his  Horace  from  the  shelves,  and, 
opening  the  book  at  random,  he  alighted  on  that  well- 
known  ode,  which  had  steadied  the  minds  of  so  many  be 
fore  him,  and  would  be  comfort  and  solace  to  yet  unborn 
thousands :  li^Equam  rebus  in  arduis  servare  mentem"  etc. 

His  servant  had  opened  the  window,  and  the  bright, 
bracing,  sunny  air  of  Quito,  revived  his  drooping  spirits. 
The  freshness  and  vigor  of  youth  returned  and  filled  him 
with  new  hope.  He  left  his  house,  and,  avoiding  the 
main  streets,  he  soon  reached  the  rear  of  the  acclivity  of 
San  Juan,  and  passing  the  villa  and  gardens  of  Don  Man 
uel  Parades,  he  began  the  ascent  of  one  of  the  mountain 
spurs  which  rock-crowned  Pichincha  sends  forth  into  the 
plain  of  Quito.  He  was  not  far  from  the  scene  of  his  ad 
venture  with  the  -mysterious  Indian  maiden,  when,  to  his 
utter  astonishment  and  surprise,  he  heard  the  usual  quiet 
ness  of  this  lonely  neighborhood  broken  by  the  sound  of 
loud  and  angry  voices. 

Let  us  precede  him. 

Manuel  Paredes  had  eagerly  listened  to  the  narratives 
and  surmises  of  Dolores  and  Sanchez  the  night  before. 
There  was,  evidently,  some  subterranean  hiding-place  in 
the  ravine  where  Carrera's  maiden  had  disappeared.  The 
supposition  that  the  Inca  treasure  might  be  buried  there 
was  not  at  all  improbable.  If  the  girl  whom  Carrera  had 
seen  was  Toa  Ducbicela,  the  mysterious  Shyri  Queen,  it 
was  also  probable  that  she  knew  the  secret.  Manuel  Pare 
des  was  a  man  of  action.  Books  and  poetry  were  nothing 


20  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

to  him.  He  dealt  in  the  realities  of  life,  and  his  main  and 
only  object  was  to  promote  the  interests  of  Manuel  Pare- 
des.  He  determined  to  investigate  the  m}7stery.  He  had 
obtained,  from  Carrera,  an  accurate  description  of  the  lo 
cality,  which  was  very  near  his  own  summer-house.  He 
would  make  excavations.  He  would  sink  shafts  in  every 
direction,  and  if  there  was  a  subterranean  passage  in  or 
under  that  ravine,  he  was  determined  to  discover  it.  He 
summoned  his  Mayordomo  and  four  of  his  Indian  farm- 
laborers  with  spades  and  crow-bars,  and  ordered  them  to 
follow  him.  But  he  was  not  without  a  competitor.  Just 
when  he  was  about  to  leave  his  garden -villa,  on  the  hill, 
Count  Yalverde  made  his  appearance. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  the  Spaniard,  "  to  ask  your  Grace  to 
take  me  to  the  place  the  Seiior  Carrera  described  to  your 
Grace  last  night.  If  a  treasure  is  to  be  found  there,  I  want 
to  search  for  it,  and  I  ask  your  Grace  to  join  in  the  search. 
If  your  Grace  is  willing  to  investigate  the  matter,  I  can 
order  my  sappers  and  miners  to  work  for  us  systemati 
cally." 

Paredes  was  not  at  all  pleased.  What  he  intended  to  do 
he  wanted  to  do  for  himself,  and  not  for,  or  with  another. 
Yet,  the  Commander  of  the  royal  garrison  at  Quito,  and  the 
protege  of  the  Viceroy  of  Peru,  was  not  a  personage  whom 
it  would  be  profitable  to  offend.  He  would  submit  to  his 
company  in  the  day  time,  but  he  would  secretly  continue 
the  search  at  night.  The  chances  of  the  Count  should  not 
be  even,  if  Manuel  Peredes  could  help  it.  So  he  consented, 
and  the  party  proceeded  to  the  place. 

Foot  by  foot  the  soil  was  probed  with  spade  and  crow 
bar,  Paredes  testing  one  side  of  the  ravine  and  the  Count 
the  other,  while  the  Indians,  puzzled  and  bewildered,  did 
as  they  were  ordered.  The  search  had  not  proceeded  more 
than  a  few  rods  from  the  entrance  of  the  ravine,  when  the 
crow-bar,  in  the  hands  of  the  Mayordomo,  struck  a  hard 
substance  in  the  hill-side,  and  a  hollow  sound  accompanied 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  21 

the  blow.  The  Mayordomo  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur 
prise.  A  repetition  of  the  blow  produced  the  same  result. 

"  I  have  struck  a  hard  substance,"  said  the  Steward, 
"which  is  not  a  rock."  And  tearing  up  the  sod  with  the 
bar,  he  laid  bare  a  dark  and  smooth  surface  which  had  the 
appearance  of  bronze. 

"  It  is  bronze  '  "  shrieked  Paredes.  "  Come  with  your 
shovels  and  clear  away  the  earth." 

The  vegetation  covering  that  particular  spot  was  scarce 
and  the  earth  dry.  It  readily  yielded  to  spade  and  shovel 
and  exposed  a  plate  of  bronze  of  about  four  feet  in  length 
and  two  feet  in  width. 

"  Santa  Maria  !  "  exclaimed  the  Count ;  "  this  is  a  dis 
covery." 

"  This  seems  to  be  a  door  or  a  lid  covering  an  aperture ! " 
said  the  Steward.  "  Listen  how  hollow  it  sounds !  " 

"  Force  it  open  !  "  said  Paredes.  The  plate  seemed  to 
be  imbedded  slantingly  in  the  side  of  the  ravine.  The 
Steward  vrewed  it  carefully,  touched  it  with  his  bar  inch 
by  inch,  and  finally  stemmed  his  foot  against  it,  when  to 
the  astonishment  of  evei^body  the  upper  part  suddenly 
gave  way,  and,  sinking  to  a  flat  level  with  the  base,  opened 
a  dark  passage  into  the  mountain  side.  The  excitement  of 
the  men  at  this  discovery  knew  no  bounds.  Pale,  tremb 
ling  with  eager  anticipation,  with  bated  breaths  and  pal 
pitating  hearts,  they  stared  into  the  darkness  of  the  aper 
ture.  Suddenly  a  shrill,  hoarse  laugh  interrupted  the 
breathless  silence.  Instinctively  white  men  and  Indians 
shrank  back  in  terror  and  looked  about  to  see  from  whom 
the  grating  sound  had  come.  They  did  not  have  to 
look  long.  It  was  right  above  them.  Just  upon  the 
brink  of  the  ravine,  on  tho  side  in  which  the  opening  had 
been  discovered,  and  almost  perpendicularly  above  it, 
stood  a  figure  which  sent  a  shudder  through  Count  Val- 
verde's  frame.  It  was  a  woman  ;  at  least  she  wore  tho 


22  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

garments  of  a  woman,  but  her  face,  shriveled  with  age, 
would  not  have  betrayed  her  sex.  Her  hair  was  short, 
thick,  and  white.  Her  countenance  was  that  of  a  mummy, 
only  her  eyes,  wildly  rolling  and  shooting  the  fiercest 
glances,  showed  that  her  face  was  alive,  terribly  alive. 
She  rested  her  left  side  on  a  crutch  ;  in  her  right  hand  she 
held  a  stick,  which  helped  to  support  her  tottering  form. 

The  four  Indians,  on  beholding  her,  at  once  uncovered, 
and  bowed  their  heads,  and  stood  in  reverential  silence. 
It  was  Mama  Eucu,  the  Indian  witch,  the  prophetess,  the 
medicine  woman,  the  last  of  the  great  sorceresses  of  her 
race.  Again  she  gave  a  laugh,  short  and  shrill,  and  arous 
ing  in  the  awe-stricken  breasts  of  these  who  beheld  her  all 
the  superstitious  fears  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

Three  times  she  raised  the  heavy  stick  in  her  right  hand, 
and  then  exclaimed  in  Quichua,  her  shrill  voice  reverberat 
ing  from  the  mountains: 

"Pachacamac!  Pachacamac!  Be  thou  the  witness  of  the 
truth  of  my  words!  The  spirits  of  the  mountains  speak  ! 
The  spirits  of  the  volcano  are  aroused!  You  seek  what 
you  have  not  lost.  You  seek  what  you  shall  never  find. 
You  are  disturbing  the  repose  of  the  vanquished  and  the 
dead.  There  must  be  a  victim  !  One  of  you  shall  be  the 
victim  !  One  of  you  shall  be  stricken  from  the  land  of  the 
living  for  this  profanation  of  the  mysteries  of  Pichincha. 
"Who  shall  it  be?  I  hear  the  voice  of  the  spirit  and  shall 
announce  the  coming  judgment.  He  who  passes  first  through 
the  sacred  gate  you  have  opened,  shall  die  before  the  rains 
of  winter  descend  again  upon  the  plains  of  Ana-Quito.  He 
shall  die,  not  surrounded  by  friends  and  mourners,  but  he 
shall  die  a  horrible  death  in  the  hands  of  infuriated  enemies, 
and  biting  fire  shall  lick  the  skin  from  his  flesh  and  the  flesh 
from  his  bones.  Hear  it,  ye  mountains!  Hear  it,  ye  men 
of  Quito!  Hear  it,  Viracoehas  !  Pachacamac  the  groat  is 
my  witness !  " 

And,  as  if  the  mountains  had  understood  it,  the  rumbling 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  23 

thunder  of  Cotopaxi,  so  frequently  heard  at  Quito,  broke 
forth  at  this  very  moment,  increasing  the  terror  of  her  list 
eners.  Count  Valverde  had  not  understood  a  word  of  what 
she  had  said,  but  he  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  could  not 
avert  his  gaze  from  her  terrible  features.  Everybody  stood 
aghast,  as  if  bound  by  some  fearful  spell.  Again  the  old 
woman  waved  her  stick  three  times,  and  then  hobbled 
away  slowly,  laughing  and  muttering  to  herself  as  she 
went.  Paredes  was  the  first  to  recover  his  self-possession, 
and,  with  a  forced  laugh,  said  to  his  Indians  :  "  The  good 
old  woman  is  getting  craz}r.  It  is  all  stuff  and  nonsense." 

"  What  did  she  say?"  said  the  Count. 

"  Oh,  nothing!  "  replied  Paredes.  "  It  was  nothing  but 
wild  and  incoherent  talk.  She  wanted  to  frighten  us  from 
the  work  we  have  begun,  but  her  threats  are  powerless 
against  Christians,  who  believe  in  the  Savior  and  His  Holy 
Mother!  "  And,  with  these  words,  he  crossed  himself,  de 
voutly  pronouncing  the  formula.  The  Count  and  the  Stew 
ard  followed  his  example.  The  Indians  still  stood  motion 
less. 

"  And  now,  Andres  !  "  Paredes  said  to  one  of  his  Indians, 
in  Quichua,  "  thou  art  the  smallest  of  us,  and  canst  easily 
squeeze  through  this  hole.  Go  in  and  see  what  it  is." 

"  No,  amo  mio !  "  *  answered  the  Indian.  "A  thousand 
pardons,  amo,  but  1  shall  not  go  ! " 

"What!"  thundered  Paredes,  "the  villain  refuses  to 
obey  my  command  ?  " 

"  Mercy,  amo  mio,  for  God's  sake,  mercy  !  " 

"Mercy  in  hell,  you  scoundrel!  "  shrieked  Paredes.  "I 
am  the  master,  and  I  command  thee  to  go  into  this  open 
ing,  and  see  what  there  is  inside.  Don  Tomas,  make  the 
villain  go  !  " 

The  steward  approached  the  Indian,  who  shrank  back  in 
terror. 

*Amo  means  master. 


24  TFIE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

"  Do  not  be  a  fool,  man  ! "  continued  Parades.  "  No 
harm  shall  come  to  thee.  We  shall  all  follow  thee.  I  shall 
follow  thee  myself,  if  thou  art  afraid,  and  hold  thee  up,  so 
that  thou  shalt  not  drop  into  a  precipice." 

At  this  moment  Carrera  made  his  appearance  on  the  other 
side  of  the  ravine,  just  opposite  the  elevation  where  the  old 
witch  had  stood,  and  looked  upon  the  scene  beneath  him 
with  eager  astonishment. 

The  Indian  dropped  on  his  kness  and  implored  his  mas 
ter  for  mercy.  But  the  Steward  seized  him  on  one  side  and 
Paredes  on  the  other,  and  thus  attempted  to  drag  him  to 
the  dreaded  opening.  Suddenly  the  poor  fellow  threw  him 
self  on  the  ground,  and  with  tears  streaming  down  his  face, 
declared  that  he  could  not  and  would  not  go. 

"  This  thing  has  gone  too  far  !  "  said  Paredes,  pale  with 
rage*  "  If  I  tolerate  such  insubordination  from  any  of  my 
Indians,  I  shall  soon  have  to  till  my  lands  in  person.  We 
shall  have  to  provide  against  a  repetition  of  such  mutiny. 
Mayordomo,  take  this  fellow  back  to  the  villa,  tie  him  to 
a  post,  and  let  him  taste  five  hundred  lashes,  well  laid  on 
and  well  counted." 

"And  what  is  the  cause,  Don  Manuel  ?"  asked  Carrera, 
whose  presence  had  not  been  noticed  by  anybody,  "  of  such 
exceptional  severity  ?  " 

"  You  here,  Don  Julio?"  replied  Paredes,  gruffly.  "I 
have  always  claimed  pnd.  exercised  the  right  to  manage 
ray  Indians  in  my  own  way,  and  without  any  interfer 
ence" — 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  any  irritation,  Don  Manuel. 
I  have  just  arrived  here.  I  do  not  know  what  has  hap 
pened.  I  only  hear  that  your  Grace  is  about  to  inflict  a 
most  cruel  punishment  on  a  helpless  Indian,  and  I  do  your 
Grace  the  justice  to  suppose  that  you  have  given  the  order 
in  the  heat  of  passion.  I  am  sure,  Don  Manuel,  you  would 
regret  its  execution.  It  might  kill  the  man." 

"  If  I  kill  my  Indians,  Don  Julio,  this  is  my  affair,  and 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  25 

although  I  honor  the  motive  of  your  interference,  I  can  not 
tolerate  it.  This  Indian  belongs  to  me." 

11  But  the  Senor  Paredes  must  be  aware  of  the  fact  that 
the  Indians  are  not  slaves  ;  that  they  are  vassals  of  the 
crown,  to  which  they  pay  tribute,  and  that  your  Grace  has 
no  right  to  treat  them  in  such  a  barbarous  manner,  un 
worthy  of  your  gentility  and  standing  in  society." 

"  Senor  Can-era,  I  have  spoken.  I  do  not  wish  to  quar 
rel  with  you,  as  I  have  an  account  to  settle  with  your  ju 
venile  friend,  Eoberto  Sanchez,  a»d  I  believe  in  one  thing 
at  a  time.  I  must  repeat,  therefore,  that  your  interference 
is  inadmissible.  This  Indian  belongs  to  me,  and  I  shall 
punish  him  for  his  outrageous  insubordination." 

"  But  what  has  he  done  ?  " 

"  No  matter  what  he  has  done.  It  concerns  me,  not  you. 
Mayordomo,  take  him  a  way." 

"  Senor  Paredes,  you  are  about  to  violate  the  laws  of  the 
King,  and,  worse  than  that,  you  are  violating  the  laws  of 
religion  and  humanity.  How  much  is  this  Indian  worth 
to  you?" 

"  Does  your  Grace  want  to  buy  him  ?  " 

"  I  would,  if  you  would  sell  him  to  me." 

"He  is  not  for  sale,  Don  Julio  ;  and  even  if  he  were,  you 
are  without  money  to  make  the  purchase.  Your  Grace 
seems  to  have  forgotten  that  you  owe  me  a  hundred  and 
fifty  ducats.  You  had  better  pay  your  old  debts  before  you 
contract  new  ones." 

"  This  is  a  very  ungentlemanly  reminder,  Don  Man 
uel.  Every  cent  I  owe  you  will  be  paid.  You  know 
I  can  not  do  it  to-day  ;  but  it  shall  be  done  in  less 
than  a  week.  In  the  meantime,  I  shall  not  stand  by 
and  allow  you  to  commit  a  plain  violation  of  the  law.  If 
I  can  not  prevent  it  in  a  friendly  manner,  I  must  resort  to 
other  means.  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  come  out  of  the 
ravine,  or  do  you  prefer  that  I  should  come  down  to  you." 
With  these  words,  Carrera  drew  his  sword. 


26  THE    SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

"As  j'ou  please  !  "  answered  Paredes,  drawing  his. 

"  One  moment,  gentlemen  !"  exclaimed  the  Count. 

"  No  interference,  Senor  Count,"  said  Paredes.  "  Your 
Excellency  knows  the  Viceroyal  orders  forbidding  peace 
makers  to  interfere  on  such  occasions.  DOCB  your  Excel 
lency  wish  to  violate  the  law  ?" 

"  Indeed,  not,"  replied  the  Count.  "  But  I  wish  to  say  a 
word  to  you  in  private,"  and  approaching  Paredes,  he 
whispered  :  "  Give  in,  Don  Manuel,  your  Grace  knows  that 
he  is  right.  I  admit  that  such  punishments  are  very  fre 
quently  inflicted  by  masters  upon  their  Indians,  but  it  is 
done  in  violation  of  law,  and  it  might  get  your  Grace  into 
trouble.  The  Viceroy  is  determined  to  protect  the  Indians 
against  what  he  calls  excessive  cruelty,  and  if  your  Grace 
gives  way  to  your  passion,  you  place  yourself  at  the  mercy 
of  any  enemy  who  may  choose  to  instigate  a  prosecution." 

"  But  how  can  I  give  way  to  threats  ?  It  would  be  cow 
ardice  to  yield." 

"Fight  him,  if  you  must,  but  consent  to  the  pardon  of 
the  Indian  first.  Your  Grace  can  punish  him  at  any  other 
time." 

Paredes  yielded  to  this  advice,  and  coming  out  of  the 
the  ravine,  he  said  to  Carrera  :  "  I  am  at  your  Lordship's 
disposal.  But  before  we  begin,  I  wish  to  say  that  oAving 
to  the  advice  and  request  of  Count  Valverde,  I  have  con-' 
eluded  to  pardon  this  Indian.  I  have  not  done  it  for  your 
sake,  Julio  de  Carrera,  because  I  never  yield  to  threats. 
And  to  show  your  Grace  that  your  challenge  hag  not  in 
fluenced  my  determination  in  the  least,  I  shall  now  respond 
to  it  as  becomes  a  gentleman."  And  with  these  words  he 
threw  himself  into  position.  "  Be  on  your  guard,  Don 
Julio!" 

The  Indians  sent  up  a  wail. 

"  One  word,  Don  Manuel,"  said  Carrera.  "  As  the  ob 
ject  of  mj-  interference  has  been  attained.  I  should  grasp 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  27 

your  hand  and  thank  you  for  your  noble  self-restraint, 
rather  than  meet  you  as  an  enemy." 

"  Well  said,  Don  Julio  !:)  exclaimed  the  Count.  "  Take 
his  hand,  Colonel  Paredes." 

"  Seflor  Carrera  has  challenged  me  to  fight,"  replied 
Paredes.  "  If  I  do  not  hold  him  to  his  challenge,  he  will 

O      ' 

claim  that  I  have  acted  under  compulsion  with  reference 
to  that  Indian." 

"  Y~ou  are  mistaken,  Don  Manuel.  I  pledge  you  my 
word  of  honor  that  I  shall  never  refer  to  this  unpleasant 
occurrence.  I  have  always  looked  upon  you  as  a  friend, 
and  if  our  friendship  shall  terminate,  it  will  be  your  fault, 
not  mine.  I  am  ready  to  proceed  ;  but  as  I  may  have  been 
the  aggressor,  I  offer  you  my  hand  before  I  strike.  "Will 
you  take  it?" 

"  Embrace,  gentlemen,  embrace,"  urged  the  Count. 

"  You  are  always  amiable,  Don  Julio,"  said  Paredes. 
I  accept  your  hand,  and  shall  forget  \vhat  has  happened." 
Thus  saying,  he-  approached  Carrera,  and  the  two  em 
braced  with  all  the  appearance  of  cordiality,  but  both  of 
them  well  aware  that  there  was  no  love  lost  between  them, 
and  that  the  slightest  breeze  would  fan  into  a  fresh  blaze 
the  half-smothered  fire  of  hate. 

"  And  now.  Don  Manuel,"  said  the  Count,  ".I  shall  en^ 
courage  these  Indians  a  little.  They  want  encouragement 
more  than  lashes.  I  do  not  understand  the  Quichua  lan 
guage,  and  do  not  know  what  the  old  witch  has  said  to 
them ;  but  I  can  see  that  she  has  appealed  to  their  super 
stitions.  Let  me  show  them  the  folly  ot  their  fears;"  and 
thus  saying,  he  entered  the  opening.  And  again,  by  a 
wonderful  coincidence,  Cotopaxi  sent  forth,  its  roaring 
thunder,  while  the  terrified  Indians  vainly  exclaimed: 
"  Stay,  Seiior,  do  not  go  !  It  is  death  and  destruction." 

A  smile  of  grim  satisfaction  distorted  the  features  of 
Paredes,  but  disappeared  as  quickly  as  it  had  come. 

Count  Valverde  returned  after  a  few  moments  of  painful 


28  THE   SECRET   OE   THE   ANDES. 

suspense.  u  It  is  the  entrance,"  he  said,  "  to  a  subterranea  n 
passage,  which  widens  as  it  lengthens.  But  it  is  too  dark 
to  see;  light  up  a  torch." 

"  But  this  time,  Seiior  Count,"  said  Paredes,  after  having 
lit  the  torch,  "  your  Excellency  will  allow  me  to  lead  the 
way.  You,  men,  may  follow  us." 

The  fears  of  the  Indians  had  disappeared.  The  curse  of 
Mama  Euca  attached  only  to  the  first  man  who  should  pass 
through  the  opening.  The  Count,  in  their  eyes,  had  know 
ingly  offered  himself  as  the  victim,  and  so  they  had  nothing 
to  fear.  Hence,  they  willingly  obeyed  their  master's  com 
mand.  The  Mayordomo  and  Carrera,  who  had  also  de 
scended  into  the  ravine,  entered  last.  And  again  the 
thunder  of  Cotopaxi  reverberated  from  the  mountains. 

The  subterranean  passnge  expanded  after  a  few  steps. 
It  became  high  enough  to  allow  the  men  to  walk  erect. 
Cautiously,  they  threw  the  light  of  the  torch  on  the  path 
before  them,  lighting  up  every  foot  of  ground  and  of  the 
earth-walls  around  them  as  they  proceeded.  Suddenly 
the  noise  of  rushing  waters  struck  their  ears.  At  the  same 
time  the  ground  disappeared  before  their  feet.  They  had 
reached  the  brink  of  a  precipice.  The  passage  was  inter 
sected  by  a  deep  ravine,  of  considerable  width,  through 
which  a  mountain  torrent  rushed  into  deeper  and  darker 
abysses  with  noisy  rapidity.  They  bent  over  the  brink, 
arid  looked  down  into  the  chasm.  They  could  see  the 
water  below  them,  and  feel  the  spray  on  their  cheeks, 
but  the  light  of  their  torch  was  too  dim  to  enable  them  to 
form  an  estimate  of  the  chasm's  depth.  One  thing  was 
clear,  there  was  no  way  to  descend  into  it.  The  passage 
in  which  they  found  themselves,  terminated  abruptly,  and 
there  were  no  steps  or  projections  in  the  steep  rocky  bank 
by  the  aid  of  which  a  descent  might  have  been  attempted. 
Moreover,  the  rapidity  of  the  torrent  would  not  allow  them 
a  foot-hold,  even  if  they  should  let  themselves  down  by 
means  of  ropes  and  ladders.  Thus  far  their  discovery 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  29 

seemed  to  have  proved  a  barren  one.  They  tested  the 
sides  of  the  passage  with  their  spades  and  daggers.  They 
plowed  up  the  ground  under  their  feet ;  but  the  soil  was 
hard  and  rocky,  and  defied  their  instruments.  Other 
torches  were  lit,  and  the  digging  and  boring  continued  for 
over  an  hour,  without  the  slightest  result.  No  side-passage 
leading  out  of  the  corridor  which  enclosed  them  could  be 
found.  Again  and  again  the  subterranean  ravine  was  in 
spected,  but  it  was  of  no  avail.  Tired  and  disappointed, 
they  abandoned  the  ungrateful  task. 

"Don  Tomas,"  whispered  Paredes  to  his  Mayordomo, 
"  take  these  Indians  out  and  forbid  them  under  threats  of 
death  to  disclose  to  any  living  soul,  but  especially  to  any 
white  man,  what  we  have  seen  here  to-day."  And  after  the 
Mayordomo  had  taken  the  Indians  out  of  the  dark  passage, 
Paredes  addressed  his  companions  :  "  Now,  gentlemen,  we 
may  stop  for  to-day.  We  have  found  nothing,  but  this  is 
no  proof  that  we  shall  find  nothing  hereafter.  We  must 
come  back  a'nd  give  this  hole  a  thorough  overhauling.  For 
the  present,  however,  we  may  come  to  one  conclusion.  Let 
us  keep  this  matter  secret.  If  we  tell  of  it,  the  whole 
town  will  be  here  to-morrow,  and  we  shall  be  cheated  out 
of  the  possible  fruits  of  our  discovery.  There  is  no  danger 
that  Mama  Eucu  will  tell.  These  Indians  never  reveal 
anything.  And  as  to  my  own  Indians,  I  vouch  for  them. 
To-morrow,  or  whenever  it  may  suit  your  pleasure,  we  may 
come  back  again.  And,  in  order  to  avoid  suspicion,  it  will 
be  well  for  us  to  appear  among  our  friends  and  acquaint 
ances  in  the  forenoon.  We  can  meet  here  in  the  afternoon. 
I  shall  send  one  of  my  Indians  to  you,  Senor  Count,  for 
some  of  your  mining  tools,  but  I  should  not  advise  the  in 
troduction  of  any  new  parties,  even  in  a  subordinate  ca 
pacity.  Are  your  Lordships  agreed  ?" 

The  Count  and  Can-era  consented,  and  the  party  left  the 
passage.  Before  they  stepped  into  the  open  air,  Paredes 
stopped  to  examine  the  door.  It  was  a  simple  plate  of 


30  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

bronze,  upon  which  the  turf  had  been  so  carefully  arranged 
as  to  hide  the  plate  completely  on  the  outside.  The  plate 
was  inserted  into  a  groove  of  masonry-work  at  the  base,  so 
contrived  that  it  fell  back  into  its  original  position  as  soon 
as  it  was  lifted  from  the  ground.  The  turf  which  hid  it 
must  have  been  of  one  piece,  for  it  had  not  only  concealed 
it,  but  it  completely  fitted  in  with  the  surrounding  vege 
tation.  The  plate,  when  covering  the  aperture,  stood  in  a 
position  slanting  slightly  toward  the  mountain,  so  as  to  re 
tain  the  sod  on  It.  It  was  altogether  an  admirable,  yet 
simple  piece  of  workmanship,  highly  creditable  to  the  in 
genuity  of  its  Indian  inventors. 

Paredes  carefully  replaced  the  plate,  and,  with  the  aid  of 
Can-era,  covered  it  with  the  original  sod,  filling  up  the  in 
terstices  produced  by  the  Mayordomo's  iron  bar  with  earth 
and  vegetation.  The  Indians  silently  looked  on,  waiting 
for  orders. 

Count  Valverde  turned  to  the  Mayordomo  while  the  two 
noblemen  were  at  work  covering  up  the  entrance,  and, 
slipping  a  gold  piece  into  his  hand,  asked  him  : 

"  What  did  that  old  woman  say  ?" 

"  Why  should  your  Excellency  care  to  know  ?" 

"  But  I  want  to  know  it,  man.  It  must  have  been  some 
thing  terrible  ;  for  why  should  that  Indian  have  braved 
the  wrath  of  his  master  rather  than  enter  the  passage? 
Tell  me  the  whole  of  it." 

"  I  dislike  to  obey  your  Excellency.  Your  Excellency 
might  be  sorry  for  it." 

•  '•  Thou  doublest  my  curiosity.  Give  me  a  full  transla 
tion." 

The  Mayordomo  reluctantly  complied  with  Yalverde's 
command,  and  slowly  and  hesitatingly  reproduced  in  Span 
ish  the  terrible  curse  of  the  old  woman. 

The  Count's  face  turned  white  as  he  listened.  Cold  per 
spiration  started  from  his  forehead,  and  his  stout  heart 
sank  as  the  man  proceeded.  Silently  he  followed  the  party 


BOOK    I.      DREAMS.  31 

on  their  way  borne,  and  to  their  attempts  to  draw  him 
into  conversation  he  returned  but  short  and  inappropriate 
answers.  Silently  he  descended  the  hill  with  them  on  their 
return  to  the  city,  and  soon  left  them,  after  a  short  exchange 
of  civilities.  What  was  it  that  made  this  brave  man  shrink 
within  himself  and  seek  the  privacy  of  his  chamber? 
What  made  him  sit  for  hours  that  night,  gazing  into  va 
cancy,  his  head  resting  on  his  hands  ?  He  did  not  notice  the 
fleeting  hours  and  the  approach  of  darkness.  Ho  did  not 
notice  the  entrance  of  his  servant  with  lights,  and  it  was 
late  at  night  before  he  aroused  himself  from  his  lethargy, 
prostrated  himself  before  a  wooden  crucifix  suspended  over 
his  bed,  and  sent  up  a  long,  fervent  prayer. 

Was  it  the  remembrance  of  some  occurrence  in  his  past 
life,  that  had  thrown  him  into  this  unusual  revery  ?  Wo 
shall  know  in  time. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    FOOL. 

CARRERA  was  ashamed  to  tell  his  companions  that  he  had 
been  on  his  way  to  Mama  Rucu's  cottage  when  he  fell  in 
with  their  exploring  party ;  but  as  he  could  not  have  as 
signed  a  suitable  excuse  for  leaving  them  on  the  mountain, 
he  returned  to  the  city  with  them,  concluding  to  postpone 
his  visit  to  the  Indian  sorceress  to  the  following  day. 

Carrera's  wealthy  uncle  was  the  possessor  of  several 
houses  in  the  city  of  Quito,  one  of  which  he  had  placed  at 
the  disposal  of  his  nephew.  'At  the  door  of  this  mansion 
the  young  gentleman  was  welcomed  in  a  mysterious 
manner  by  his  servant,  Mariano. 

"  What  is  it,  Mariano  ?  Who  is  that  queer  figure  in  the 
doorwa}"?" 

"Mariano   looked   around   cautiously,  and   then  laying 


32  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

his  fingers  to  his  lips,  he  said  :  It  is  El  Loco  (the  Fool)  ; 
he  brings  a  message  for  your  Grace." 

"A  message  for  me  ?  From  whom — and  who  is  El  JJoco?" 

"  Does  not  your  Grace  i*emember  him  ?  He  is  Mama 
Hucu's  Yanacona  (servant  or  slave)." 

"A  message  for  me  from  Mama  Eucu  !  "  said  Carrera, 
surprised.  ""Well,  we  shall  hear  her  messenger."  And 
thus  saying,  he  entered  the  doorway,  which,  passing  the 
great  staircase,  led  into  one  of  the  court-yards  (pateos), 
common  to  all  the  houses  of  Quito. 

He  beheld  a  queer  figure.  It  was  that  of  a  little  man, 
almost  a  dwarf,  of  uncertain  age,  with  a  real  or  feigned  ex 
pression  of  mental  aberration  on  his  face,  relieved  by  oc 
casional  flashes  of  cunning  shrewdness.  The  man  was 
dressed  miserably — almost  in  rags.  His  head  was  very 
large.  His  face  was  ugly  but  not  repulsive.  His  feet,  of 
course,  were  bare.  His  arms  were  fleshless,  but  bony  and 
muscular.  His  chest  and  the  upper  part  of  his  body  be 
tokened  great  strength,  and  seemed"  to  have  developed  at 
the  expense  of  his  legs.  He  wore  a  tattered  hat,  which  he 
politely  doffed  at  the  approach  of  the  nobleman,  to  whom 
he  bowed  with  a  good-natured  grin.  There  was  fierceness 
in  his  eyes,  although  their  regular  expression  was  that  of 
dreamy  abstraction.  Carrera  remembered  to  have  seen  the 
man  before,  but  he  had  never  taken  special  notice  of  him. 
He  also  remembered  that  the  imp  had  been  pointed  out  to 
him  as  a  harmless  lunatic,  who  was  allowed  to  roam  the 
streets,  an  object  of  indifference  or  contemptuous  pity,  and 
would  starve  if  it  were  not  for  the  support  and  protection 
of  Mama  Rucu.  Some  looked  upon  him  as  the  familiar  spirit 
of  the  old  witch,  but  the  general  belief  was  that  he  was  too 
foolish  to  be  of  any  service  to  her,  other  than  that  of  a 
common  menial. 

"  Good  evening  to  your  Grace,"  said  the  Fool,  for  he 
seemed  to  be  known  by  no  other  name,  slowly  turning  his 
tattered  hat  in  his  hands.  "May  your  Grace  live  many 


BOOK   I.      DEEAMS.  33 

years.  My  mistress  sends  her  regards  to  my  Lord.  My 
mistress  hopes  that  my  Lord  and  all  his  family  are  in  the 
enjoyment  of  good  health,  and  that  my  Lord  has  passed  a 
good  night." 

"  It  is  well,"  interrupted  Carrera.  "Spare  thy  compli 
ments  and  tell  me  what  thy  mistress  wants  of  me." 

"My  mistress  wishes  to  know,"  said  the  man  slowly, 
"why  your  Grace  has  not  come.  My  mistress  has  been 
waiting  for  my  Lord  these  last  two  hours." 

Carrera  stood  aghast.  How  could  Mama  Eucu  know  that 
he  had  intended  to  visit  her  ?  He  fixed  a  sharp,  piercing 
glance  on  his  servant,  Mariano,  who  received  it  as  uncon 
cerned  as  if  it  were  not  intended  for  him. 

"My  mistress  is  still  waiting  for  his  Loi'dship,"  con 
tinued  the  Fool. 

"Why,  man,"  said  Carrera,  "I  do  not  understand  thee." 

"  Your  Lordship's  Fool  can  speak  the  language  of  the 
Viracochas  (the  white  men)  if  Your  Lordship  should  pre 
fer."  The  conversation  thus  far  had  been  in  Quichua. 

"I  understand  thy  Inca  language  well  enough,"  answered 
Carrera,  "but  I  do  not  understand  why  thy  mistress  should 
have  waited  for  me,  and  what  thy  mistress  can  want  of 
me." 

"  I  am  my  mistress'  servant,"  replied  the  Fool."  "  I  carry 
her  messages.  I  know  nothing  of  the  business  of  my  mis 
tress." 

"  Well,  give  my  regards  to  thy  mistress,  and  tell  her  that 
I  shall  see  her  tomorrow." 

"  But  my  mistress  waits  for  your  Lordship  now,"  said 
the  man,  nodding  and  grinning. 

"  It  is  too  late  now,  I  might  not  be  back  before  the  ring 
ing  of  the  night-bell." 

"But  your  Grace  will  not  come  back  at  all  to-night. 
Your  Grace  will  pass  the  night  at  the  house  of  my  mistress." 

"Man,  they  rightly  call  thee  a  fool.  I  spend  the  night 
at  Mama  Rucu's  cottage  !  What  dost  thou  mean  ? 


34  THE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

"I  am  a  fool,"  the  Indian  rejoined  meekly.  I  am  yonr 
Lordship's  fool,  and  the  servant  of  my.  mistress.  Your 
Grace,  I  hope,  is  not  afraid  of  Mama  linen." 

"  But  how  can  1  stay  there  over  night  ?  It  is  unheard  of!'' 

"  And  will  remain  unheard  of!  Your  Lordship's  visit  to 
Mama  Kucu  will  not  be  known  to  any  living  soul,  except 
Mariano.  To-morrow  morning  your  Lordship  will  return 
to  this  house,  hale  and  hearty,  and  a  much  wiser  man." 

"  Thou  art  bold,  my  boy!" 

"I  am  a  fool,  my  Lord." 

Carrera  stood  irresolute.  The  invitation  was  so  extraor 
dinary  and  preposterous  that  he  was  undecided  whether 
to  laugh  or  to  get  angry.  And  yet  hotv  could  Mama  Rucu 
have  divined  his  intention  to  visit  her!  It  was  strange — 
like  a  weird  romance.  His  meditation  was  interrupted  by 
Mariano,  who  now  approached  the  group,  hat  in  hand. 

"  Will  your  Grace  allow  me  a  word — " 

"  Certainly,  my  boy  !" 

"I  have  served  your  Lordship  honestly  and  faithfully!" 

"I  have  no  complaint  to  make,  Mariano." 

"Your  Grace  has  been  the  very  best  of  masters  to  me, 
and  I  love  your  Lordship — " 

"  I  believe  it,  Mariano.    I  should  have  said,  '  I  know  it !'  " 

"  Then  allow  your  faithful  servant  to  say  but  one  word  : 
Your  Lordship  can  trust  yourself  blindly  to  Mama  Rucu." 

Carrera  made  no  reply. 

"It  is  the  first  time  that  Mama  Rucu  has  sent  such  a 
message  to  any  living  Viracocha,  lady  or  gentleman. 
Mama  Rucu  seems  to  entertain  a  regard  for  your  Lord 
ship,  which  she  entertains  for  no  other  gentleman  of  Quito. 
Others  seek  her,  while  she  has  sent  for  your  Grace.  She 
refuses  so  many,  and  she  invites  my  master.  For  the  Vir 
gin's  sake,  go,  amo;  no  harm  will  come  to  you." 

"  But  if  it  should  become  known" — 

"  The   Fool   is  right ;   it   will   never  be   known.     Your 


BOOK    I.       DREAMS.  35 

Lordship  can  trust  me,  and  as  to  Mama  Rucu,  her  word  is 
sacred." 

"  But  if  she  is  a  witch" — 

"Master,  I  am  a  Christian,  like  jour  Grace,  and  think 
the  new  faith  more  powerful  than  the  faith  of  my  fathers ; 
but  as  a  Christian,  I  can  tell  your  Grace  that  Mama  Rucu, 
heathen  as  she  may  be  at  heart,  has  done  more  good  to  her 
fellow-beings  than  all  your  lawyers,  doctors,  and  monks 
will  ever  do.  Go,  Master  !" 

"Well,  then,"  said  Carrera,  who,  whatever  his  religious 
scruples  may  have  been,  was  too  proud  to  allow  his  servant 
to  suspect  him  of  fear,  "bring  my  cloak  and  my  mother's 
cross  and  rosary.  I  shall  fasten  it  to  my  belt,  and  defy 
whatever  of  witchcraft  there  may  be  in  the  cottage." 

Mariano  was  delighted,  and  hurried  up  the  staircase  to 
comply  with  his  master's  orders. 

"And  now  the  Fool  will  beg  your  Lordship  to  listen  to 
him  again!"  said  the  messenger.  "The  streets  are 
crowded  by  mobs;  it  will  be  dark  in  a  minute,  and  we 
might  be  detained.  If  your  Lordship  will  follow  me,  1 
shall  lead  your  Grace  through  lanes  and  byways.  Your 
Grace  will  please  to  keep  an  eye  on  your  Fool.  If  the 
Fool  slackens  his  pace,  Your  Lordship  will  do  the  same. 
If  the  Fool  hastens,  your  Grace  will  please  to  hasten  like 
wise.  Is  his  Lordship  ready?" 

"  I  am  !     Lead  on  !     Good  night,  Mariano  !" 

"The  Holy  Vii-gin  bless  you,  Master!"  said  Maria-no; 
and  after  Carrera  had  left,  he  pressed  his  arms  to  his 
breast  and  muttered  with  a  sigh  :  "  Great  Sun  !  Great 
Pachacamac!  Let  Mama  Rucu's  undertaking  thrive, 
whatever  it  may  be !" 


36  THE    SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MAMA   RTTCU. 

It  was  a  clear,  beautiful  night.  The  rainy  season  was 
over.  The  rays  of  the  moon  played  tenderly  on  the  snowy 
robes  of  Mt.  Antisana  in  the  east.  The  quietness  of  the 
mountain  solitude,  where  Mama  Hucu's  cottage  stood,  was 
interrupted  only  by  occasional  detonations  from  Mt.  Coto- 
paxi.  The  great  volcano  had  been  active  of  late,  and  had 
filled  the  public  mind  with  apprehensions  of  new  eruptions 
and  earthquakes.  Clouds  of  smoke,  too,  were  issuing  from 
the  crater  of  Pichincha,  while  the  city  of  Quito  quietly 
slumbered,  as  it  were,  in  the  lap  of  its  dangerous  neigh 
bor. 

The  cottage  of  the  old  Indian  woman  stood  in  the  en 
trance  of  a  ravine,  which  partly  hid  it  from  the  outside 
view.  It  was  built  of  adobe,  like  most  of  the  Indian  huts, 
although  larger  in  size  than  others.  It  had  no  windows, 
but  only  a  door,  which  gave  it  light  and  air,  and  served  as 
a  chimney  when  fires  had  to  be  built  inside,  and  the  smoke 
could  not  escape  sufficiently  through  the  breaks  of  the 
thatched  roof.  On  a  bench  of  adobes  in  front  of  the  hut 
sat  the  old  witch  when  Carrera  approached,  with  her 
hands  resting  on  her  staff  and  her  head  leaning  on  hoi- 
hands.  She  sat  motionless  and  silent,  and  had  no  word  of 
welcome  for  her  visitor. 

"  Here  we  are,  Master,"  said  the  Fool.  "  I  shall  leave 
you  for  the  present.  1  shall  not  be  far  off,  if  your  Grace 
should  want  me." 

"  (rood  evening,  Mama  Rucu  !"  said  Carrera,  who  could 
not  entirely  conquer  a  certain  superstitious  awe  when  he 
found  himself  alone  in  this  secluded  place  with  one  whom 


BOOK    I.      DREAMS.  37 

public  opinion  designated  as  the  greatest  sorceress  of  the 
kingdom  of  Quito. 

Mama  Rucu  slowly  raised  her  head,  looked  at  him  for  "a 
few  moments,  and  then,  with  a  strange  tone  of  kindness, 
said  : 

"  Thou  hast  made  me  wait  a  long  time." 

"  How  could  I  know,  Mother,  that  you  were  waiting  for 
me?" 

"  Didst  thou  not  intend  to  come  here  early  in  the  day?" 

"How  do  you  know  that,  Mamita?  Had  Mariano  in 
formed  you?" 

The  old  woman  uttered  a  contemptuous  laugh  :  "Mar 
iano  !  Do  I  want  Mariano  to  teacli  me  what  I  know  ?  My 
eyes  are  dim  with  age,  but  they  can  see  farther  and  deeper 
than  thine  will  ever  see.  I  knew  thou  wouldst  come.  It 
was  so  ordained  by  a  power  unknown  to  you  of  the  new 
faith.  Thy  tarrying  on  the  way  was  unnecessary.  Seek 
ing  for  treasure!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  A  vain  attempt!  That 
treasure  exists,  my  son.  I  can  tell  thee  that  it  exists,  but 
no  Viracocha  shall  see  it  until  its  rightful  owner  shall  show 
it  to  him.  You  might  as  well  attempt  to  level  Mt.  Pichin- 
cha  into  the  valley  of  Chillo,  as  to  discover  that  secret.  It 
is  the  secret  of  our  race,  and  our  race  will  keep  it  until  we 
choose  to  reveal  it.  Wouldst  thou  see  thy  good  friend  Paredes  ? 
Heturn  to  the  spot  where  you  met  this  afternoon.  Thou 
wilt  find  him  there  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  with  torches 
and  spades  probing  every  inch  of  ground  and  finding 
nothing.  To-morrow  his  occupation  will  be  gone.  To 
morrow  the  passage  will  bo  closed  and  no  trace  of  it  will 
ever  be  discovered." 

Carrera  was  lost  in  astonishment.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  this  woman,  and  the  belief  inJier  witch 
craft  grew  firmly  upon  his  mind. 

"I  have  confidence  in  thee,  my  son.  Thou  art  better 
than  thy  race,  although  I  fear  thou  art  weaker  than  thy 
inferiors.  Thou  hast  acted  well  on  many  occasions.  Think 


38  TDE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

not  that  our  rucc  is  ungrateful  or  nndiscerning.  Stupid, 
torpid,  brutal  my  people  may  appear ;  but  there  is  a  fire 
within  them  which,  let  the  proper  time  arrive,  will  burst 
forth  into  devouring  flames.  Look  thou  at  yon  volcano. 
It  sleepeth  !  Peace  and  quietness  reign  in  the  valley  ;  an 
inoffensive  cloud  of  smoke  and  vapors  curls  up  from  the 
mouth  of  the  crater;  in  it  and  around  it  everything  is  in 
repose.  Yet,  let  Pachacamac  but  give  the  word,  and  roar 
ing  thunders  will  strike  terror  to  the  human  heart;  flames 
will  burst  forth  from  the  crater  ;  a  rain  of  ashes  will  darken 
the  air ;  rocks  and  pumice-stone  will  be  thrown  in  every 
direction,  and  the  destructive  earthquake  will  shake  the 
land,  burying  cities,  swallowing  rivers,  rending  mountains 
asunder,  and  creating  dreary  lakes  where  flourishing  vil 
lages  had  stood.  Such  is  our  race.  We  are  the  children 
of  Pichincha,  Cotopaxi  and  Sara  Urcu,  hiding  the  thunder 
bolts  of  Death  under  the  snowy  robe  of  Peace  !  " 

The  old  woman  relapsed  into  her  revery,  and  a  long 
pause  followed,  during  which  Carrera  stood  irresolute,  un 
certain  whether  to  remain  or  to  go.  At  last  she  continued  : 
"I  speak  to  thee,  my  son,  as  I  have  not  spoken  to  any  liv 
ing  Viracocha.  I  have  confidence  in  thee.  Thou  art  bet 
ter  than  the  others.  Thy  heart  is  pure  and  good  ;  and  a 
great  future  awaits  thee.  But  it  must  be  carved  out  by 
thyself.  Listen !  The  Viracochas  are  the  conquerors. 
We,  of  the  Shyri  race,  are  the  conquered.  The  two  races 
are  enemies.  But  Pachacamac  in  his  infinite  goodness, 
sometimes  allows  men  and  women  to  be  born  who  may  be 
the  harbingers  of  peace,  and  put  an  end  to  the  deadly  feud 
by  divine  conciliation.  If  I  mistake  not,  some  such  doc 
trine  is  taught  by  the  priests  of  the  new  faith.  But  thy 
race  belie  it  by  their  actions.  I  have  heard  the  white  men 
preach  the  law  of  love,  while  they  hunted  down,  racked, 
burned,  and  enslaved  my  people.  Their  love  is  death.  But 
there  are  times  when  Pachacamac  creates  men  and  women 
who  can  change  sadness  into  joy,  hatred  into  love,  war  into 


BOOK    I.       DREAMS.  39 

peace.  These  men,  like  Maneo  of  Pern,  and  Duchieela  of 
Purruhd  may  become  the  benefactors  of  their  race,  if  they 
accept  the  mission  which  God  has  assigned  to  them.  A 
great  mission  has  been  reserved  for  thee,  my  son.  Whether 
thou  wilt  accept  it  or  not,  I  can  not  tell.  The  future  has 
not  yet  been  fully  revealed  to  me.  I  fear  thou  wilt  shrink 
from  the  dangers  and  struggles  of  the  task.  I  confide  in 
thy  goodness,  but  not  in  thy  resolution.  Still  it  is  meet 
that  I  should  disclose  to  thee  what  will  await  thee  in  either 
case." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  Mamita." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  understand  me,  at  present.  The  time 
has  not  yet  come  to  reveal  what  Pachacamac,  or  Christ,  as 
th}*  race  call  Him,  expects  of  thee.  What  hast  thou  come 
for?  To  consult  me  about  little  trivial  things  !  About  thy 
self-inflicted  misfortunes,  thy  losses  at  the  gaming  table, 
thy  troubles  with  thine  uncle,  thy  foolish  longing  for  a  girl 
who  is  unworthy  of  thee!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Dost  thou  think 
that  I  would  bother  with  these  trifles?  Dost  thou  imagine 
that  for  such  I  should  have  waited  here  by  the  hour,  strain 
ing  my  old  eyes  to  discern  the  great  future,  and  preparing 
the  wonderful  potion,  which,  for  the  time  being,  will  make 
thy  vision  as  clear  as  mine?  Foolish  boy  !  I  pity  thee.  I 
love  thee  for  thy  kindness  to  my  people ;  but  I  do  not  care 
for  thy  trifling  and  childish  sorrows,  when  the  deep  sorrows 
of  millions  require  my  attention,  when  the  welfare  of  my 
race  is  at  stake.  And  yet  I  shall  be  good  to  thee,  Vira- 
cocha.  Thou  needst  not  fear  the  old  Cam  a  sea  ;*  she  will 
not  harm  a  hair  on  thy  head.  She  will  try  to  relieve  thy 
troubles  and  protect  thee  from  the  results  of  thy  follies. 
She  will  try  to  make  a  man  of  thee;  but  thou  must  BE  a 
man,  Julio  de  Carrera,  and  stand  by  what  thy  heart  ac 
knowledges  to'be  right.  Thy  people  say,  I  am  in  league 
with  the  Prince  of  Darkness.  Believe  it  not,  my  son  !  It 

*  "Witch  or  sorceress. 


40  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

is  not  for  evil,  but  for  good  that  I  strive.  I  want  to  dry 
the  tears  and  gladden  the  hearts  of  millions.  I  know  our 
race  has  succumbed  to  yours,  and  the  Indian  is  not  strong 
enough  to  drive  the  foreigner  from  the  land  of  my  fathers. 
But  1  see  a  way  of  securing  the  happiness  of  both  races,  of 
restoring  my  people  to  their  rights  as  human  beings,  with 
out  injury  to  thee  and  thine.  This  is  the  great  object  which 
I  seek  to  accomplish  before  I  die.  My  sands  of  life  are  run 
ning  fast.  My  days  are  numbered.  I  have  not  much  time 
to  lose.  Art  thou  ready  to  behold  what  I  shall  show  thee 
to-night?  Two  visions  thou  shalt  see.  Two  roads  are  be 
fore  thee.  Wilt  thou  take  to  the  right?  I  shall  show  thee 
what  awaits  thee  at  the  end.  Wilt  thou  take  to  the  left?  I 
shall  show  thee  what  there  is  to  the  left.  If  thou  art  a 
coward,  if  thou  fearest  like  a  child,  if  thou  believest  the 
stories  with  which  monks  and  nurses  or  fools  may  have 
frightened  thy  ignorant  mind,  retrace  thy  steps.  Go  home 
to  thy  bed  and  forget  what  thou  hast  heard.  If  thou  art  a 
man  who  believes  in  God,  no  matter  how  thou  callest  Him, 
and  in  doing  good  to  thy  fellow  creatures,  come  with  me. 
The  potion  is  ready,  the  veil  will  be  lifted,  thine  eyes  shall 
see!  Art  thou  prepared?" 

Carrera  hesitated,  doubted,  feared.  But  he  had  gone  so 
far  that  he  would  have  considered  it  dishonorable  or  cow 
ardly  to  recede,  and  this  consideration  prevailed  over  his 
scruples  of  religion  and  the  terrors  of  superstition  so  pow 
erful  in  those  days. 

"  I  am  prepared,  Marnita !" 

"  Then,  come,"  she  said,  rising  from  her  seat.  "  Thou 
art  welcome  to  the  house  of  Mama  Rucu.  There  was  a 
time  when  I  should  have  received  thee  in  a  palace.  It  is  a 
miserable  hut  to  which  I  invite  thee  now.  And  yet  I  might 
live  in  splendor.  I  might  buy  more  acres  than  thine  eyes 
could  survey,  if  I  would  take  for  myself  what  belongs  to 
my  race.  But  I  shall  share  the  fate  of  my  kindred,  and 


BOOK    I.       DREAMS.  41 

live  as  they  live,  sleep  as  they  sleep,  and  die  as  my  betters 
have  died.     Come  in  !" 


CHAFTEE  VIII. 

THE    FIRST   VISION. 

Carrera  turned  to  follow  her,  when  she  motioned  him  to 
stand  back :  "  Wait !  One  word  before  I  receive  thee  under 
my  roof.  I  ask  thy  promise,  as  a  cavalier,  that  what  thou 
shalt  hear  or  see  to-night  shall  remain  buried  in  thine  own 
bosom.  Whatever  I  do  for  thee  to-night,  is  for  thee  alone, 
and  must  remain  thy  secret  as  well  as  mine." 

"Your  caution  is  unnecessary,  Mother,"  said  Carrera. 
"Nobody  shall  know  that  I  have  been  here.  I  promise 
silence,  on  the  honor  of  a  gentleman." 

"  G-ood  !     And  now.  come  in  !" 

They  entered.  The  interior  of  the  hut  was  divided  into 
two  compartments  by  a  curtain,  and,  like  all  Indian  cot 
tages,  was  without  flooring.  The  cuyes  (a  species  of  guinea 
pigs,  which  almost  every  Ecuadorian  Indian  owns),  fright 
ened  by  the  appearance  of  n  stranger,  took  to  their  holes. 
A  dim  candle  burned  on  a  primitive  table.  On  an  adobe 
bench,  protruding  from  the  Avail,  a  bed  had  been  impro 
vised.  Pots  and  crockery  of  Indian  workmanship  were 
piled  up  in  a  corner.  The  old  woman  lifted  the  curtain. 
A  slow  fire  of  aromatic  woods  was  burning  under  a  small 
kettle,  and  a  couch  of  sheep-skins  and  shawls  was  placed 
near  the  fire. 

"  Make  thyself  comfortable,  my  son  !  "  said  Mama  Eucu. 
"  Take  off  thy  sword,  hat,  and  cloak.  Nobody  shall  touch 
these  things.  There  is  a  bed  which  I  have  made  for  thee. 
Thou  wilt  need  it."  She  then  hobbled  to  the  fire,  and  took 
a  calabash,  which  supplied  the  place  of  a  drinking  vessel, 


42  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

and,  with  a  ladle,  poured  into  it  some  of  the  liquid  that  was 
boiling  in  the  kettle. 

"  What  I  have  here  is  a  great  and  powerful  decoction. 
It  is  made  from  a  vine  growing  far,  far  away  from  here,  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  Napo,  on  the  other  side  of  yon 
mountain  range.  The  vine  is  called  Samarucu,  the  consola 
tion  of  old  age.  Prepared,  with  the  addition  of  a  few  in 
nocuous  herbs,  it  confers  upon  those  who  drink  of  it  the 
gift  to  see  the  future.  It  is  harmless.  I  have  been  taking 
it  for  many  years." 

The  author  of  this  truthful  narrative  might  here  insert 
that  the  Samarucu  is  still  in  use  among  the  uncivilized  In 
dians  of  the  Napo  Province.  The  most  wonderful  virtues 
are  ascribed  to  it  by  the  natives.  Its  effects  are  similar  to 
those  produced  by  the  hashish  of  the  Orientals. 

"  Take  a  sip  !"  said  Mama  Rucu,  "  and  we  shall  see  how 
it  affects  thee." 

Carre ra  obeyed. 

"Now,  listen.  The  person  thou  shalt  see  now  is  proba 
bly  the  one  uppermost  in  thy  mind  at  present.  Whoever 
she  may  be,  she  will  be  the  clue  to  what  thou  shalt  see 
next." 

Suddenly  Carrera  made  a  start,  and,  throwing  out  his 
arms,  he  made  a  few  hasty  steps  toward  the  rear  wall  of 
the  hut,  and  exclaimed :  "  Dolores ! " 

"  I  thought  so  ! "  said  the  old  woman. 

"  She  is  gone  !  "  said  Carrera,  passing  his  hands  over  his 
face  and  rubbing  his  eyes.  "And  how  natural  and  life-like 
she  stood  before  me  there,  near  the  wall.  I  could  have 
sworn  she  was  there  in  reality." 

"It  is  well !  "  muttered  the  witch.  "  Thou  art  suscepti 
ble.  Thou  shalt  see  a  great  deal.  Now,  drink  the  rest. 
Take  it  all.  Leave  not  a  drop  in  the  cup.  It  is  a  most 
precious  draught." 

Carrera  obeyed,  without  hesitation. 

"  Stretch  thyself  upon  that  bed.     Put  thy  cloak  and 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  43 

sword  under  thy  head.  Lie  still,  and  wait  for  what  will 
come.  Close  thine  eyes.  It  is  well !  And  now  listen  to 
ray  words.  It  was  Dolores  that  appeared  first.  Well, 
then,  the  great  Moon,  under  whose  rays  we  are  now  repos 
ing,  and  whose  power  is  in  the  draught  thou  hast  taken, 
will  show  to  thee,  in  a  long  series  of  visions,  what  awaits 
thee,  if  thou  iinkest  thy  fortunes  to  those  of  the  woman, 
Dolores.  Lie  still,  my  son,  and  confide  in  me.  I  shall  as 
sist  thee,  if  the  potion  should  prove  too  strong  for  thee." 
And,  with  these  words,  the  old  woman  sat  down  on  her 
couch  before  the  fire.  Perfect  stillness  reigned  in  the  cot 
tage,  interrupted  only  by  the  chirping  of  the  crickets,  and, 
at  rare  intervals,  by  the  detonations  of  Mount  Cotopaxi. 

A  feeling  of  delicious  languor  came  over  Carrera,  and 
lazily  he  stretched  himself  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  soon 
felt  as  if  he  were  at  home  again.  There  was  his  room,  his 
bookcase,  his  bed,  his  windows.  There  was  Mariano,  too, 
beckoning  him  to  corne.  He  followed  him  into  the  recep 
tion  room.  A  lady,  deeply  veiled,  stood  before  him.  An 
other  veiled  lady  stood  in  the  door.  The  first  lady  lifted 
her  veil,  and  he  beheld  Dolores.  She  spoke  to  him.  She 
spoke  long,  earnestly,  appealingly  ;  but  he  could  not  catch 
her  words.  She  drew  nearer  to  him.  Her  hands  were  in 
his.  Her  eyes  met  his,  and,  in  the  next  moment,  she  was 
in  his  arms.  But  soon  the  scene  changed.  A  mass  of  peo 
ple  filled  the  street  before  -his  house.  They  cheered  him 
wildly  as  he  showed  himself  in  the  door.  Hats  were  flung 
up,  and  thundering  vivas  rent  the  air.  But  suddenly  the 
faces  and  voices  of  the  men  changed  from  joy  to  madness, 
from  acclamations  to  fury  and  imprecations.  Knives  and 
daggers  were  raised  against  him.  He  could  discern  the 
brutal  face  of  Castro,  the  notorious  chief  of  the  ruffians  of 
Quito,  who  looked  at  him  with  the  fierceness  of  hatred  and 
rage.  Carrera  was  seized  by  the  mob.  His  clothes  were 
torn  from  him.  He  was  hurled  into  the  street  and  carried 
away  by  a  surging  mass  of  humanity.  He  felt  a  stinging 


44  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

pain  in  his  back.  He  felt  the  hot  blood  trickling  down  his 
limbs.  The  maddened  crowd  surrounded  him  with  wild 
shrieks.  He  felt  like  one  oppressed  by  a  terrible  night 
mare.  He  uttered  a  loud,  piercing  scream.  Mama  Hucu 
quietly  arose  from  her  couch,  walked  up  to  his  bedside,  and 
placed  her  hand  on  his  burning  forehead.  It  had  a  sooth 
ing  effect.  The  anguish  under  which  he  had  been  laboring 
passed  away;  but  he  felt  crushed  and  helpless.  The  pain 
ful  vision  had  disappeared.  His  tormentors  were  gone  ; 
but  his  strength  would  not  return.  He  lay  in  a  pool  of 
blood,  his  own  blood,  in  an  out-of-the-way  part  of  the  city, 
under  a  garden  wall.  He  heard  the  voices  of  the  fiends 
that  had  tormented  him,  but  they  were  away  in  the  dis 
tance.  At  last  he  saw  two  ladies  hurry  by,  followed  by 
two  or  three  male  servants.  He  recognized  Dolores  again. 
She  looked  at  him.  She  must  have  seen  him.  Why  did 
she  not  stop  ?  He  called  her  by  her  name.  She  must  have 
heard  him.  Why  did  she  not  stop  ?  Again  a  dreadful 
feeling  of  anguish  came  over  him.  He  fainted  away. 

How  long  he  thus  lay  in  a  swoon  he  could  not  realize. 
Suddenly  it  was  clear  to  him  that  he  was  in  Mama  JRucu's 
cottage  again.     But  the  scene  was  changed.     Several  In 
dian  men  and  women  were  in  the  room  whom  he  did  not 
know.     They  bent  over    him  wistfully  and    shook   their 
heads,  exchanging  low  whispers.     Where  had  they  come 
from?    "What  did   they  want?    He   tried   to   raise    him 
self  from  his  bed ;  but  again  he  felt  Mama  Eucu's  hand 
upon  his  forehead,  gently  pressing  down  his  head,  and  he 
heard  her  whisper:  "Be  quiet!"     A  long  pause  followed, 
during  which   he   saw   nothing.     Impenetrable   darkness 
surrounded  him   and   kept   him  inclosed  until  it  became 
painful.     At    last    lights    broke    through    the    darkness. 
What  lights  were  they?     Tapers?     Yes,  tapers   burning 
upon  an  altar.     He  was  in  a  church.     He  saw  the  pictures 
and  the  statues  of  the  saints.     He  found  himself  kneeling 
before  the  altar,  with  Dolores  by  his   side.     The  priest 


BOOK    I.      DREAMS.  45 

stood  over  them.  The  peals  of  the  organ  reverberated 
through  the  edifice.  It  was  a  wedding  he  witnessed — his 
own  wedding,  and  Dolores  was  the  bride ;  and  the  organ 
kept  on  pealing  and  pealing  without  end,  until  he  saw 
nothing.  Darkness  surrounded  him  again,  but  the  organ 
continued  to  play.  At  last  he  saw  a  new  sight.  A  man 
was  groping  his  way  through  the  darkness.  It  was 
Paredes.  How  he  hated  him!  And  yet  he  followed  him, 
his  sword  clutched  in  his  right  hand,  ready  to  stab  him 
to  the  heart.  Inexplicable  pangs  lacerated  his  bosom,  but 
he  could  not  realize  what  made  him  suffer.  And  now 
Dolores  appeared  again,  but  there  was  no  love  in  her  eyes. 
The  expression  of  her  face  was  haughty  and  cold.  He 
joined  her,  and  they  walked  on  together  in  silence  and 
estrangement  for  many  a  weary  mile,  over  mountains  and 
rivers,  and  through  forests  and  defiles,  and  every  now  and 
then  he  saw,  peeping  through  the  branches  of  the  trees  or 
through  the  bushes,  as  if  lurking  along  the  road,  the  hated 
face  of  Pa'redes. 

At  last  a  forest  received  him,  such  ?s  he  had  never  seen 
before.  It  was  a  forest  of  gigantic  trees  and  impenetrable 
brushwood.  The  reports  of  arquebuses  broke  through  the 
stillness.  Indian  arrows  whirred  through  the  air.  It  was 
war,  with  its  terrors,  that  now  came  on  him.  He  felt  that 
u  battle  was  raging  around  him.  Sometimes  he  was  in  it ; 
sometimes  it  was  far  away  from  him.  At  last  an  Indian 
woman  stood  before  him.  Her  face  and  figure  were  familiar 
to  him.  Her  appearance  carried  him  back  through  a  long 
vista  of  years.  His  heart  went  out  to  her.  She  spoke  to 
him.  He  heard  her  voice.  It  was  a  voice  of  inexpressible 
kindness  and  sadness.  She  spoke  but  one  word.  She  said : 
"  Fly  !"  Sadly  he  pointed  to  a  tattered  banner  which  was 
stuck  into  the  earth.  She  averted  her  face  and  wept.  He 
took  her  hand,  kissed  it,  and  bathed  it  with  his  tears. 
Deep,  unfathomable  regret,  and  the  abject  sadness  of 
despair  now  [seized  upon  his  soul,  and  his  whole  frame  was 


46  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

shaken  with  sobs.  The  woman  in  the  meantime  hud  dis 
appeared,  and  again  the  din  of  battle  sounded  through  the 
forest.  Again  he  was  bleeding  from  many  wounds.  lie 
dragged  himself  from  tree  to  tree,  passing  through  a,  rain 
of  arrows.  He  heard  the  howls  of  savages.  Naked  Indi 
ans,  such  as  he  had  never  seen  before,  with  war-paint  on 
their  faces,  closed  in  upon  him.  His  sword  broke.  He 
dropped  upon  his  knee  and  uttered  a  last  prayer.  Then 
blow  fell  upon  blow,  until  consciousness  and  life  ebbed 
away.  A  leaden  heaviness  weighed  him  down  ;  a  deathly 
sickness  seized  him,  and  he  broke  into  a  loud  and  agoniz 
ing  groan. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   SECOND   VISION. 

AT  this  moment  Mama  Kucu  dashed  a  handful  of  cold 
water  into  his  face,  and  he  awoke.  "Bathe  thy  hands  and 
face  in  this  basin  of  cold  water.  Thy  first  vision  is  over." 

Carrera  did  as  he  was  told,  and  the  effects  of  the  potion 
passed  away,  leaving  only  a  certain  faintness,  which  he  soon 
overcame. 

"  By  the  Virgin,  Mother,  you  have  made  me  see  strange 
things  1" 

u  jSTot_I,"  said  the  old  woman  ;  "  it  was  not  I.  It  was  the 
wonderful  power  of  the  Samarucu.  Art  thou  ready  for 
the  second  draught?" 

"How  long  have  I  been  asleep?" 

"Perhaps  an  hour."  The  old  woman  had  filled  her  cala 
bash  from  the  fluid  in  the  kettle  again,  and  presented  it  to 
her  visitor.  "  Take  a  mouthful  at  first." 

"  Must  it  be  now  ?" 

"It  need  not  be   now;  but  thou  wilt  require  a  good; 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  47 

sound,  long  sleep  after  the  two  visions,  and  the  sooner  they 
are  ended  the  better  it  will  be  for  thee." 

"  Shall  1  have  to  suffer  such  agonies  again?" 

"Not  this  time.  I  do  not  know  what  thou  hast  seen; 
but  as,  during  thy  sleep,  I  pierced  the  veil  which  covers 
thy  future,  1  am  almost  certain  that  thy  second  vision  will 
be  pleasanter  than  the  first.  Take  a  sip,  my  son  !" 

"Your  will  shall  be  done,  Mamitu!  Here  is  to  your 
health  !"  He  swallow.ed  a  mouthful  of  the  potion,  and 
handed  the  calabash  back  to  the  woman.  Again  the  effect 
was  instantaneous.  Again  he  gave  a  sudden  start,  and, 
stretching  forward  his  arms,  he  exclaimed  :  "The  mysteri 
ous  Indian  maiden  !  There  she  stands  !" 

"Glory  to  Pachacamac!"  shouted  the  witch.  "Hail  to 
thee,  Viracocha !" 

"Who  is  this  wonderful  apparition?  Her  forehead  is 
encircled  with  a  diadem,  holding  a  large  emerald  of  ex 
quisite  beauty." 

"  The  emblem  of  her  royal  race.  May  the  great  Sun 
bless  the  last  of  his  living  children !" 

"She  is  gone!"  said  Carrera,  with  a  sigh  of  disappoint 
ment.  "  Oh,  that  I  could  see  her  again  !" 

"  Thou  shalt  see  her  again,  my  son  !  Thou  shalt  see  her 
again  !"  repeated  the  old  woman,  chuckling  with  satisfac 
tion  and  delight.  "Just  finish  this  wonderful  draught; 
the  potion  of  life;  the  key  to  the  future;  the  unraveler 
of  all  mysteries;  the  godlike  Samarucu.  Do  not  spill  a 
drop  of  the  precious  liquid." 

Carrera  obeyed  silently,  and  drained  the  cup  to  the  last 
drop. 

"And  now  do  as  thou  didst  before.  Lie  down  and  keep 
quiet." 

And  again  he  imagined  he  was  in  his  bed-room.  Again 
Mariano  beckoned  him  to  step  into  his  reception-room. 
Again  he  saw  the  two  veiled  or  masked  ladies.  And  again 
Dolores  approached  him  and  spoke  to  him,  long,  earnestly, 


48  THE    SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

appealingly.  He  could  not  understand  her  words,  but 
they  seemed  to  produce  no  impression  upon  him.  At  last 
she  turned  to  depart,  and  politely  he  escorted  her  down 
stairs.  With  a  formal  bow  he  took  leave  of  her.  Shortly 
afterwards  the  scene  changed.  Again  his  house  was  sur 
rounded  by  a  tumultuous  mass  of  men,  whose  cheers  and 
acclamations  greeted  him  as  he  showed  himself  in  the 
doorway.  But  this  time  their  welcome  did  not  change  to 
rage.  He  was  carried  away  by  them,  but  only  smiling 
faces  surrounded  him,  and  only  joyful  sounds  struck  his 
ear.  He  was  borne  along,  on  the  shoulders  of  men,  until 
the  procession  halted  in  front  of  the  government  palace. 
At  the  same  time  another  procession  filed  into  the  square. 
It  was  a  long  procession  of  Indians,  headed  by  warriors 
carrying  a  palanquin,  similar  to  those  on  which  the  ancient 
Incas  were  carried  by  their  faithful  subjects,  and  in  it  stood 
erect  and  majestic,  yet  full  of  indescribable  grace  and 
modesty,  the  mysterious  Indian  maiden  with  the  emerald 
diadem. 

On  the  steps  of  the  palace  she  alighted,  and  was  received 
by  him.  Hand  in  hand  they  ascended  the  staircase,  under 
the  enthusiastic  acclamations  of  the  multitude,  while  sa 
lutes  were  firing  and  the  church-bells  ringing.  His  heart 
swelled  with  pride  and  tenderness. 

The  scene  changed,  and  the  din  of  battle  again  fell  upon 
his  ear.  Yet  it  was  not  a  hopeless  and  agonizing  struggle 
as  before,  but  victory  seemed  to  be  with  him  wherever  he 
went.  Again  he  traversed  the  tropical  forest ;  but  this 
time  the  beautiful  Indian  maiden  was  at  his  side.  The 
dark  face  of  Paredes  disturbed  him  no  longer,  but  the 
bright  and  open  countenance  of  young  Sanchez  smiled  on 
him  and  his  companion.  Suddenly  the  ocean  expanded 
before  his  view.  Ships  were  in  the  harbor,  men-of-war 
carrying  many  guns,  But  it  was  not  the  well-known  flag 
of  Spain  ;  it  was  the  cross  of  St.  George  and  other  strange 
emblems  that  floated  in  the  breeze.  A  number  of  boats 


BOOK    I.       DREAMS.  49 

set  out  to  receive  him  and  his  Indian  bride,  and  the  guns 
of  all  the  ships  belched  forth  their  thunders  as  he  stood  on 
the  deck  of  the  main  vessel,  surrounded  by  smiling  men 
in  strange  uniforms  and  speaking  unknown  tongues.  The 
sounds  of  martial  music  rent  the  air,  and  the  vivas  would 
not  end. 

Other  battles  followed,  ci'owned  with  new  victories. 
Thousands  of  Indians  followed  him,  wherever  he  went. 
The  troops  of  Quito  were  pitted -against  the  regular  troops 
of  Spain.  But  they  were  not  unaided.  Those  strange 
soldiers,  who  spoke  unknown  tongues,  were  with  him  and 
made  his  army  successful  in  every  encounter.  At  last  he 
found  himself  at  Quito  again,  but  not  in  his  own  house. 
It  was  a  palace  he  inhabited,  and  men  of  first  quality  sur 
rounded  him  and  did  him  reverence. 

He  was  not  oppressed  by  darkness  and  anguish,  as 
during  his  first  vision,  but  brightness  and  happiness 
greeted  him. every  where.  The  beautiful  Indian  was  again 
at  his  side,  and  threw  her  arms  around  him.  A  feeling  of 
delicious  repose  spread  over  him,  and  he  fell  into  an  en 
chanting  swoon,  which  was  followed  by  a  loss  of  conscious 
ness,  and  a  long,  unbroken,  dreamless  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TOA. 

Whether  he  slept  hours  or  days,  he  did  not  know.  When 
he  awoke  the  rays  of  the  sun  greeted  him  through  the 
open  door  of  the  cottage,  and  the  Fool  stood  smiling  before 
his  bed,  awaiting  his  orders. 

Can-era  gazed  at  him  lazily,  but  said  nothing.  He  had 
not  yet  realized  where  he  was.  He  tried  to  recall  the 


50  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

scenes  of  the  previous  night,  but  a  pleasant  feeling  of 
languor  prevented  all  mental  exertion. 

"  Good  morning,  your  Grace !  "  said  the  Fool  after  a 
pause.  "I  hope  your  Grace  has  passed  a  good  night." 

Carrera  again  looked  at  the  man,  and  tried  to  remember 
who  he  was.  The  Indian  seemed  to  understand  his  inquir 
ing  gaze:  "I  am  your  Lordship's  Fool,"  he  said  in  an  ex 
planatory  manner.  "  I  brought  your  Lordship  to  Mama 
Kucu's  cottage  last  night." 

<;What  time  is  it?"  asked  Carrera  at  last,  without  at 
tempting  to  rise. 

"It  must  be  seven  or  eight  o'clock,  your  Lordship." 

"Have  I  slept  here  all  night?" 

"  Most  certainly  your  Excellency  slept  here  all  night." 

"  Where  is  Mama  Eucu  ?  " 

"  She  went  out  to  collect  medicine  herbs  with  the  dew 
drops  on  them.  There  is  great  power  iu  the  morning 
dew." 

•''Have  I  been  here  alone?" 

"Not  alone,  my  Lord.  Your  Lordship's  Fool  was  in 
attendance,  preparing  your  Lordship's  breakfast." 

"When  will  Mama  Eucu  be  back  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Master." 

"  But  I  want  to  see  her  before  I  go." 

"  I  do  not  know,  Master." 

"  Did  she  go  far  away  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  Master.  But  I  know  a  cup  of  chocolate 
will  revive  your  Lordship's  spirits.  Shall  I  bring  it?" 

The  Fool  set  the  table,  and  Carrera,  who  had  not  supped 
the  evening  before,  partook  of  a  most  inviting  breakfast. 
After  he  had  finished,  the  Fool  cleared  away  the  dishes, 
and  disappeared.  The  young  man  then  tried  to  recall  the 
events  of  the  preceding  night.  He  remembered  that  he 
had  passed  through  two  distinct  concatenations  of  dreams 
or  visions,  but  they  had  become  somewhat  obliterated  and 
blended  in  his  mind.  He  endeavored  to  separate  them  in 


BOOK    I.       DREAMS.  51 

his  recollection,  and  to  trace  the  order  in  which  the  sights 
he  saw  had  succeeded  each  other.  He  owned  that  they 
were  unintelligible  to  him.  The  occurrences  in  which  he 
had  played  a  part,  seemed  to  be  entirely  inexplicable. 
How  could  such  things  happen,  and  why  should  they  hap 
pen  to  him?  His  visions  could  not  have  been  the  fore 
shadowing  of  real  events.  They  must  have  been  the  result 
of  the  beverage  he  had  taken.  They  appeared  unnatural 
and  unreal  to  him  as  the  hallucinations  of  a  heavy  night 
mare.  The  object  of  his  visit  to  Mama  Eucu  had  not  been 
accomplished.  He  had  come  to  consult  her  about  his  own 
affairs,  and  she  had  given  him  a  potion  which,  for  the  time 
being,  must  have  disordered  his  brain,  and  filled  it  with 
the  phantoms  of  a  madman's  fancy.  And  yet  there  was  a 
continuity  of  evolution  in  what  he  had  seen  which  was 
astonishing.  But  what  could  it  all  mean?  How  could  he, 
a  peaceable  and  inoffensive  youth,  become  the  hero  of 
events  of  such  magnitude  and  violence? 

"While  he  was  thus  pondering,  a  female  voice  of  wonder 
ful  melodiousness  struck  his  ear,  the  same  voice  that  he 
had  heard  in  his  dreams. 

"  Is  Mama  Eucu  at  home  ?  " 

"  She  is  not !  "  said  the  Fool. 

"  When  will  she  be  back  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know."  Suddenly  the  Fool  gave  a  half-sup 
pressed  exclamation  of  surprise,  and  then  whispered  some 
words  which  Carrera  could  not  hear.  He  determined  to 
see  the  possessor  of  that  voice,  and  stepped  before  the  door 
of  the  cottage.  But  he  saw  nothing  extraordinary.  A 
female,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  common  Indian,  stood  be 
fore  him.  Her  face  was  covered  with  a  shawl  in  the 
fashion  which  the  Indians  had  learned  from  the  Spanish 
women,  leaving  but  one  eye  exposed.  And  even  that  was 
shaded  by  the  folds  of  her  heavy  shawl ;  and  Carrera, 
blinded  by  the  glaring  rays  of  the  sun  as  he  emerged  from 
the  darkness  of  the  hut,  could  not  discern  anything. 


52  THE    SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

The  Fool  stood  hat  in  hand,  looking  doubtfully  from 
one  to  the  other. 

After  a  long  scrutinizing  look  at  Carrera,  the  woman 
said  :  "  I  shall  wait !  "  and  again,  Carrera  was  satisfied  that 
it  was  the  voice  he  had  heard  in  his  dreams. 

"  Will  you  take  a  seat,  Nifla?"  he  said  beckoning  her  to 
the  bench  in  front  of  the  house. 

(i  Thank  you,  Sefior."  said  the  woman,  and  sat  down  ;  but 
she  bowed  her  head  so  low  that  Carrera  could  not  look  into 
her  uncovered  eye.  The  Fool,  by  this  time,  had  disap 
peared. 

"You  are  not  of  Quito,  Nina,"  continued  Carrera. 

"  I  have  followed  Dolia  Carmen  Duchicela  from  Eio- 
bumba,"  replied  the  woman,  without  looking  up. 

"  Do  you  belong  to  her  suite  ?" 

"  I  do  not." 

"  To  whom  do  you  belong  ?" 

"  To  myself  first ;  to  the  Shyri  Toa  next." 

"  The  Shyri  Toa  !"  exclaimed  Carrera.  "  Is  there  such  a 
person  as  the  Shyri  Toa?" 

"  There  is." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"Everywhere,  and  nowhere.  She  is  a  wanderer  without 
a  resting-place  in  the  land  of  her  fathers." 

Carrera  was  strangely  fascinated  by  the  melodious  in 
tonation  the  Indian  gave  to  her  words.  But  still  more  the 
mystery  of  the  Shyri  Toa  attracted  him.  Should  he  be  the 
chosen  one  of  all  the  men  of  Quito  for  whom  it  was  to  be 
solved  ?  This  woman  knew  her,  and  belonged  to  her  suite. 
He  would  pursue  his  inquiries. 

"  Why  does  she  hide  herself?" 

"  Why  does  she  hide  herself?"  repeated  the  woman  mus 
ingly.  "  Why  does  she  hide  herself?  Because  she  wants 
to  live.  Not  for  herself.  Life  has  no  charm  for  the  home 
less  fugitive;  but  she  wants  to  live  for  her  race,  whose 
rightful  sovereign  and  last  hope  she  is.  If  she  were  to  show 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  53 

herself  in  public,  she  would  be  seized  and  imprisoned  by 
the  Spaniards.  She  would  lose  her  liberty,  and  very  prob 
ably  her  life. 

But  why,  Nifla?" 

"  Because,  while  she  lives,  the  Indians  recognize  her  as 
their  rightful  Queen.  Her  commands  would  be  obeyed 
from  the  banks  of  the  G-uayasand  Esmeraldasto  the  moun 
tains  of  Pasto  ;  from  the  Tumbez  to  the  Napo.  While  she 
lives,  her  people  have  a  head  which  thinks,  a  mind  which 
plans  for  them,  a  will  that  directs  them.  Destroy  her,  and 
the  Quito  Indians  are  n  herd  without  a  shepherd,  and  their 
subjection  will  be  complete.  While  she  lives,  the  Indian 
heart  still  hopes.  With  her  death,  dies  the  last  hope  of  our 
race." 

"And  do  you  really  think  the  Spaniards  would  kill  her?" 

"  Did  they  not  kill  Tupac  Amaru  in  Peru?  What  had 
he  done?  Peaceably  he  had  held  his  court  in  the  inacces 
sible  fastnesses  of  the  Eastern  Cordillera,  whither  no  white 
man  had  ever  penetrated,  except  as  an  applicant  or  a  fugi 
tive.  They  inveigled  him  by  treacherous  promises.  They 
entrapped  him  into  their  power.  He  trusted  the  promises 
of  the  men  who  had  betrayed  Atahualpa.  For  such  con 
fiding  credulity  he  paid  with  his  life.  They  murdered  him 
without  cause,  without  trial,  without  excuse.  The  Vira- 
cochas  thought  their  dominion  was  not  secure  while  Tupac 
Amaru  lived,  and,  therefore,  they  murdered  him.  Would 
they  not  do  to  Toa  Duchicela,  the  Shyri  Queen  of  Quito, 
what  they  did  to  Tupac  Amaru,  the  Inca  of  Peru  ?  No, 
Senor,  Toa  must  hide  from  the  Spaniards,  if  Toa  wants  to 
live." 

Carrera  was  deeply  moved,  not  only  by  the  words  of  the 
Indian,  but  by  his  rapidly  growing  conviction  that  this  wo 
man,  of  such  unusual  intelligence  and  elegant  grace,  who 
hid  her  face  from  him  so  carefully,  could  not  be  a  low-born  • 
Indian.     If  her  appearance  was  not  another  vision,  a  mere 


54  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

continuation  of  his  dreams  of  the  previous  night,  ho  felt 
assured  that  she  must  be  the  Shyri  Queen  herself. 

"And,  moreover,"  continued  the  woman,  "  what  are  your 
countrymen  seeking  now?  What  have  they  been  seeking 
since  Benalcazar  entered  the  burning  ruins  of  ancient 
Quito?  The  Treasure,  the  great  Treasure  of  Atahualpa 
and  Ruminagui !  If  they  could  seize  Toa  Duchicela, 
they  would  put  her  to  the  rack.  They  would  break  her 
Jimbs  on  the  wheel  to  extort  from  her  the  secret  of  the 
Treasure.  Of  course  they  would  fail.  Toa  would  die  with 
sealed  lips,  as  so"  many  of  her  race  have  died.  But  why 
should  she  needlessly  expose  herself  to  these  tortures? 
She  is  safe  as  long  as  the  secret  of  her  abode  remains  the 
secret  of  her  own  race.  No  Indian  will  betray  her." 

"  But  was  not  Rumiiiagui  betrayed  to  the  Spaniards  by 
his  own  servants  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  was  a  usurper,  a  tyrant,  a  rebel  who  had 
put  to  death  all  of  the  members  of  the  royal  house  whom 
he  could  get  into  his  power.  The  Indians  owed  no  allegi 
ance  to  Ruminagui." 

'•  It  must  be  a  sad  and  joyless  existence,"  said  Carrera, 
sympathetically,  "  to  hide  away  in  huts  and  hovels  or  in 
the  wilderness." 

"  It  is,  Sefior,"  said  the  woman,  deeply  affected.  "  It  is  ! 
I  know  the  Shyri  Toa  well.  She  is  but  human,  and  but  a 
woman,  with  the  instincts,  desires,  feelings,  hopes,  and  the 
heart  of  a  woman,  yearning  for  love,  for  domestic  happi 
ness,  and  peace.  She  is  not  a  savage,  Sefior.  She  appre 
ciates  the  comforts,  the  luxuries,  the  refinements  of  civili 
zation.  It  is  natural  that  she  should  lon<?  for  a  home,  that 

O  i 

she  should  long  to  live  in  a  pleasant  and  permanent  abode, 
by  the  side  of  a  husband,  the  mother  of  children,  and  sur 
rounded  by  loving  friends;  that  she  should  yearn  for  rest 
and  security,  instead  of  being  driven  forth  into  the  snowy 
paramos  of  the  mountain,  or  into  the  rainy  lonliness  of  the 
tropical  forest.  Why  should  she  not  long  for  a  sheltering 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  55 

roof  over  her  head,  for  a  homestead,  however  modest, 
which  she  might  permanently  call  her  own,  instead  of  for 
ever  shifting  from  place  to  place  ;  from  the  mountain  to  the 
valley;  from  the  ravine  to  the  jungle  ;  fleeing  at  the  ap 
proach  of  danger,  like  the  wild  beast  of  the  forest,  ever 
changing  her  abode  for  fear  of  discovery,  ever  hiding  like 
a  criminal,  ever  wandering  like  an  outcast  in  the  land  which 
is  her's  by  right  divine  ?" 

"  Lady,"  said  Carrera,  with  deep  emotion,  "  you  make 
me  ashamed  of  my  own  race.  Oh,  that  I  could  say  that 
the  fears  of  your  Qtreen  were  unfounded." 

"But  you  can  not,  Senor,  you  know  you  can  not.  The 
Shyri  Toa  might  trust  herself  to  you,  perhaps  to  a  few  no 
ble  Viracochas,  but  she  can  not  trust  herself  to  your  rulers, 
or  to  your  people.  The  mystery  of  her  existence  is  her 
only  safety." 

"  But  thus  far  she  has  not  trusted  any  one  of  us.  She 
has  not  shown  herself  to  white  men  at  all." 

"Are  you  sure  that  she  has  not?  You,  Senor,  may  have 
seen  her  yourself.  But  if  she  keeps  away  even  from  the 
best  of  your  race,  even  from  those  who  have  shown  sym 
pathy  for  the  Indians,  and  a  feeling  heart  for  their  suffer 
ings — and  there  is  no  lack  of  such  good  men — she  does  it 
for  their  sake.  She  is  safe  enough  herself.  No  power  on 
earth  could  take  her  while  she  confines  her  secret  to  her 
own  race.  But  she  might  compromise  her  white  friends,  if 
she  had  any.  They  might  be  questioned  by  the  authorities, 
and  exposed  to  vexatious  inquiries  and  demands.  They 
might  even  be  required  to  assist  in  her  arrest,  and  their 
refusal  would  involve  them  into  difficulties.  The  Seiiora 
Toa  is  too  proud  to  expose  her  friends  to  dangers 
on  her  own  account.  She  would  not  exact  sacrifices  from 
those  who  owe  her  no  allegiance.  As  to  the  Indians,  she 
has  a  right  to  their  sacrifices,  and  requites  them  by  a  con 
tinuous  self-sacrifice.  To  watch  over  the  welfare  of  her 
race  ;  to  neglect  no  means  and  no  opportunity  to  ameliorate 


56  THE   SECRET   OP   THE  ANDES. 

their  condition,  and  to  lessen  their  sufferings,  or  to  direct 
the  hurricane  of  their  long  pent-up  indignation,  if  it  should 
have  to  break  forth,  is  the  great  and  on\y  object  of  her  ar 
duous,  joyless,  restless,  and,  perhaps,  hopeless  life." 

"And  I  hope,"  said  Carrera,  "that  noble,  magnanimous, 
self-sacrificing  lady  will  also  be  discreet  and  generous 
enough  not  to  sacrifice  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  thousands 
of  both  races,  in  a  fruitless  endeavor  to  array  an  unarmed 
and  undisciplined  mass  of  untutored  Indians,  against  the 
genius  and  organization  of  a  superior  civilization  which,  so 
far,  has  proved  invincible,  not  only  in  the  New  World,  but 
likewise  in  the  Old." 

"Don  Julio  de  Carrera,"  said  the  girl  solemnly,  and  for 
the  first  time  turning  her  uncovered  eye  upon  him,  brilliant 
with  the  fire  of  enthusiasm,  indignation,  and  unyielding 
courage,  "you  are  a  stranger  to  me;  a  stranger  to  the 
Shyri  Toa.  I  know  you  only  by  report.  I  know  your 
heart  beats  with  sympathy  for  the  outraged  and  the  op 
pressed,  and  that  more  than  once  you  have  protected  the 
children  of  my  race,  in  spite  of  personal  danger  to  your 
self.  The  Shyri  Toa  knows  it,  and  respects  you  for  it ; 
and  if  it  should  ever  be  in  her  power  to  show  you  her 
gratitude,  she  would  do  so.  But  what  her  plans  may  be 
for  the  unknown  future  ;  what  she  will  do,  or  not  do  ;  from 
what  sacrifices  she  will  shrink,  and  what  sacrifices  of  lives 
and  happiness  she  will  make,  are  questions  she  will  debate 
with  her  own  conscience,  and  with  those  who  represent  the 
ro}-al  house  of  Atabualpa  and  his  nobility  in  her  councils. 
Death,  under  circumstances,  may  be  preferable  to  life,  and 
the  destruction  or  self-immolation  of  a  race  may  be  prefer 
able  to  eternal  oppression  and  degradation.  But  the  Shyri 
Toa  is  not  a  wild  visionary,  Sefior  Carrera  ;  she  will  weigh 
these  matters  well.  The  time  may  come,  and,  perhaps,  has 
come,  when  the  white  natives  of  this  country  will  be  as 
impatient  of  Spanish  oppression,  with  all  its  crushing  ex 
tortions  and  humiliations,  as  the  Indians  are  of  their 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  57 

hard  task-masters.  Then,  perhaps,  both  currents  may  bo 
directed  into  the  same  channel  ;  then,  perhaps,  a  combina 
tion  may  be  effected  for  the  deliverance  of  both.  But  I 
shall  not  trouble  you  with  these  dreams,  Seiior ;  I  see 
Mama  Kucu  slowly  descending  the  slope  of  Rucu  Pichin- 
cha,  and  our  chat  will  soon  be  at  an  end." 

"  Seiiora,"  said  Carrera,  "  I  have  listened  with  wonder, 
and  what  you  said  has  taken  root  in  my  soul.  1  shall  pon 
der  over  your  words  ;  but  I  want  to  see  the  noble  lady  who 
has  spoken  them.  There  is  no  use  of  further  disguise, 
Lady  Toa  !  No  one  but  a  Queen  would  have  spoken  as 
you  have.  1  am  a  gentleman  who,  whatever  his  failings 
may  be,  has  never  been  charged  with  a  breach  of  faith. 
Your  Ladyship's  secret  will  be  safe  with  me.  I  shall  die 
rather  than  betray  it. 

"  I  know  it,  Don  Julio  !  I  know  you  must  be  loyal  as 
as  your  heart  is  good,  and  to  you,  the  first  of  all  the  Vira- 
cochas  of  Quito  and  Peru,  I  have  shown,  and  shall  again 
show,  my  face.  Behold  !  "  she  said,  throwing  back  her 
shawl,  and  then  slowly  dropping  it  down  to  her  waist.  "  Be 
hold,  then,  the  unfortunate,  the  restless,  the  Shyri  Queen, 
Toa  Duehicela,  the  granddaughter  of  Atahualpa,  the  in 
habitant  of  caves,  forests,  paramos,  and  ravines,  the  poor 
est,  and  yet  the  richest,  the  weakest,  and  yet  the  most 
powerful  inhabitant  of  her  kingdom." 

There  she  stood  before  him.  It  was  the  same  maiden 
that  had  appeared  to,  and  disappeared  from,  him  so  mys 
teriously  but  two  days  before.  It  was  she  whom  he  had 
seen  in  his  visions  under  the  influence  of  Mama  Kucu's 
potion.  There  she  stood  before  him,  a  picture  of  boauty, 
with  the  expression  of  indescribable  sadness  and  resignation 
in  her  smile,  but  the  fire  of  indomitable  courage  and  de 
termination  in  her  eye.  There  she  stood  before  him,  grace 
ful,  elegant,  and  refined,  with  the  long  and  heavy  hair  of 
the  women  of  her  race  streaming  down  her  back  and  lend 
ing  an  additional  charm  to  her  agile  and  plastic  figure. 


58  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

Carrera  drank  in  her  features  with  an  unfeigned  expression 
of  admiration,  which  could  not  have  been  offensive  to  any 
woman,  however  devoid  of  vanity  she  might  have  been.  A 
long  pause  followed,  during  which  his  eyes  rested  on  her, 
while  she  received  and  returned  his  searching  and  admiring 
look  with  modesty  and  dignity.  At  last  she  extended  her 
hand  to  him. 

"  Shall  we  be  friends,  Don  Julio  de  Carrera  ?  " 
"A  more  devoted  friend,"  answered  Carrera,  kissing  the 
proffered  hand,  "  your  Highness  will  and  could   not  have 
among  the  men  of  my  race." 

"  We  shall  see,  Don  Julio,"  she  answered  musingly,  "  we 
shall  see.   It  is  dangerous  to  be  a  friend  to  Toa  Duchicela." 
"  It  is   danger  by  which  true  friendship  is  tried  and 
proved." 

"  I  shall  hope  to  return  your  friendship.  But  there  comes 
Mama  Rucu  and  we  must  part.  Mama  Rucu,  although  not 
strictly  a  member  of  my  royal  cabinet,"  she  added  with 
a  roguish  laugh,  "stands  high  in  my  confidence  and  I  con 
sult  her  on  all  occasions.  I  have  important  secrets  of 
government  to  discuss  with  her  to-day,"  she  continued 
with  another  charming  laugh,  "  and  I  regret  that  our  inter 
view  must  terminate." 

"  But  shall  I  not  see  your  Highness  again  ?" 
"  Of  course  you  shall,  if  you  care  to  continue  our  ac 
quaintance." 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to  your  Highness?" 
"  Do  not  call  me  by  that  title.  It  sounds  like  a  mockery 
from  the  lips  of  a  white  man.  To  me  you  can  be  of  no 
service,  Don  Julio.  I  ask  no  service  for  myself.  But  you 
can  be  of  great  service  to  my  unfortunate  race,"  she  said 
impulsively  and  enthusiastically,  and  then  she  added,  hesi 
tatingly,  "  if  you  wish  to  be.  Listen  !  Before  we  enter 
into  a  compact,  we  must  know  and  understand  each 
other.  I  may  have  deceived  you.  Perhaps  I  am  an 
imposter,  and  not  the  Shyri  Queen.  My  plans,  if  I 


BOOK   I.      DREAMS.  59 

should  disclose  them  to  you  now,  might  appear  vis 
ionary.  After  you  have  seen  what  I  intend  to  show  you, 
you  will  judge  them  differently.  To-morrow  I  shall  show 
myself  to  my  people.  I  shall  do  so  publicly  in  the  Church 
of  San  Francisco.  And  yet  it  will  be  done  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  not  to  attract  the  slightest  notice  or  attention,  as  far 
as  your  people  are  concerned.  Dona  Carmen  Duchicela, 
of  Riobamba,  my  grand-aunt,  the  only  Indian  princess 
whose  title  your  government  has  recognized,  has  pre 
sented  a  necklace  of  wonderful  emeralds  to  the  Convent, 
for  the  image  of  the  Yirgin,  and  high  mass  will  be  cele 
brated  for  the  souls  of  her  deceased  relatives  and  ancestors, 
at  ten  o'clock.  The  Church  will  be  crowded  with  Indians, 
who  will  go  there  to  see  Dona  Carmen  Duchicela,  as  your 
people  will  believe.  But  these  Indians  will  come  to  see 
ME;  for  I  have  had  it  given  out  that  I  shall  show  myself 
on  that  occasion.  Come  and  judge  for  yourself.  Bring 
your  best,  your  most  honorable,  your  most  reliable  friend. 
I  have  to  depart  from  the  policy  of  entire  seclusion,  which 
I  have  pursued  until  now.  My  future  plans  require  that  I 
should  enter  into  certain  relations  and  negotiations  with 
some  of  your  best  men.  Bring  only  one  friend,  for  the 
present ;  but  choose  well.  You  shall  know  that  I  am  what 
I  claim  to  be.  My  people  shall  be  my  credentials.  After 
you  have  seen  the  moral  power  I  wield,  I  shall  let  you 
judge  of  the  material  resources  that  are  at  my  command. 
Meet  me  on  the  day  after  to-morrow  on  the  mountain-path 
where  I  appeared  to  you  first ;  but  come  alone.  Come 
shortly  after  night-fall.  I  have  trusted  myself  to  you  ; 
will  you  trust  yourself  to  me?" 

"  I  will,  Lady." 

"  Then  do  as  I  have  told  you.  And  now  go,  and  leave 
me  with  Mama  Rucu.  Good  bye,  Don  Julio  de  Carrera. 
Do  not  forget  that  you  have  promised  to  be  my  friend." 

When  Carrera  returned  to  his  room,  he  beheld,  to  his 
great  surprise,  that  a  small  tripod  vase,  or  vessel  of  antique 


60  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

Indian  workmanship,  stood  on  his  table.  He  lifted  the  lid. 
Tho  vase  was  filled  with  gold  coins,  of  the  reign  of  Charles 
the  Fifth.  Carrera  drew  back  in  amazement,  while  the 
blood  rushed  to  his  face,  coloring  it  deeply.  A  letter  lay 
under  one  of  the  legs  of  the  vase.  He  drew  it  forth,  and 
opened  it.  It  was  written  in  excellent  Spanish,  and  in  a 
large  and  round,  although  somewhat  unpracticed  and  un 
steady  hand.  I  read  thus  : 

"  Senor  Don  Julio  de  Carrera. — The  actions  of  princes 
must  not  be  judged  by  the  rules  applicable  to  those  of  ordi 
nary  individuals.  What  would  be  boldness  and  immodesty 
in  a  lady  of  private  station,  maybe  but  an  act  of  dignity  and 
self-respect  on  the  part  of  a  Queen. 

"  Don  Julio  dc  Carrera  has  proved  himself  on  more  than 
one  occasion  the  kind  friend  and  protector  of  my  race.  It 
is  my  duty,  as  the  head  of  that  race,  to  express  to  him  our 
gratitude.  Gratitude,  however,  as  we  understand  it,  con 
sists  in  deeds,  not  in  words.  I  have  learned  that  our  friend 
is  the  victim  of  embarrassments,  from  which  he  should  bo 
relieved.  It  is  in  my  power  to  help  him  by  an  insignificant 
loan,  and  I  consider  it  my  duty  to  do  so. 

"Do  not  be  offended,  Don  Julio.  I  mean  no  offense  or 
disrespect.  I  can  spare  the  small  amount  involved  in  this 
transaction  until  the  time  when  it  may  suit  your  con 
venience  to  repay  it.  If  upon  the  arrival  of  that  time 
Toa  Duchicela  should  be  no  more,  you  will  devote  this  fund 
to  the  alleviation  of  the  sufferings  of  such  of  my  subjects  as 
may  be  most  deserving  of  your  sympathy  or  commiseration. 

"  Forgive  this  intrusion  into  your  private  affairs,  and  in 
order  to  show  me  that  you  have  forgiven  it,  I  beg  you  not 
to  mention  the  matter,  and  not  even  to  allude  to  it  at  our 
next  interview. 

"  I  am  your  sincere  friend, 

TOA  II, 
"  Queen  of  Quito  and  Purruhd." 


BOOK  II. 

KEALITIES. 

A  Hi  quedaba  el  misero  difunto 
Y  alii  con  el  sus  frivolos  intentos, 
Sus  fabricas,  sus  vanos  pensamientos, 
Sus  torres,  sus  chimeras,  todo  junto: 
A1K  de  solo  un  golpe,  en  solo  un  punto 
Mostraba  la  ruyndad  de  sus  cimientos, 
Que  lo  que  en  semejante  vasa  estriba 
Su  misma  pesadumbre  lo  derriba. 

DE  OS'A,  El  Arauco  Domado, 

Canto  XVI.,  p.  265- 


BOOK  II. 

REALITIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

JUAN     CASTRO. 

BEFORE  we  proceed  with  our  narrative,  we  must  return 
to  Paredes,  and  ascertain  his  doings  during  the  night  which 
Carrera  spent  at  Mama  Rucu's  cottage.  On  Don  Manuel's 
return  home,  after  the  barren  discovery  of  the  subterranean 
passage,  described  in  a  previous  chapter,  he  ate  a  hasty  sup 
per,  and  sent  for  his  Mayordomo,  whose  arrival  he  awaited, 
while  nervously  pacing  the  room. 

"  Don  Tomas,"  he  said,  "  you  and  I  must  follow  this  mat 
ter  up.  If  there  is  anything  in  it,  I  should  divide  it  with 
you,  rather  than  with  those  strangers." 

"Well  said,  Senor,  and  many  thanks  for  your  Lordship's 
kindness  and  confidence." 

"To-morrow  they  will  be  with  us  again.  Hence,  if  we 
want  to  get  ahead  of  them,  we  must  work  to-night." 

"  I  understand,  Senor  !  " 

"  Well  and  good  !  But  there  is  a  matter  that  must  be 
attended  to  first." 

"What  is  it,  Senor?" 

"Our  companions  of  the  afternoon  might  be  tempted  to 
do  the  very  same  thing.  I  should  like'  to  know  that  they 
are  comfortably  stowed  away  in  their  beds.  Suppose  you 
get  on  your  horse,  Don  Tomas,  and  try  to  see  them  both. 
Make  any  excuse  you  see  fit.  Tell  their  servants  that  you 
have  a  message  from  me,  which  you  are  instructed  to  de- 


64  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

liver  personally.  If  they  are  in  bed  and  asleep,  you  need 
not  wake  them.  If  they  are  up,  you  might  say  that  I  ask 
them  to  breakfast  with  me  to-morrow." 

"I  understand,  Seflor,"  said  the  Mayordorno,  as  he  left 
the  room." 

He  was  not  gone  very  long,  when  the  valet  of  Paredes 
made  his  appearance,  and  announced  that  Juan  Castro 
begged  to  be  admitted  to  his  Lordship's  presence. 

Juan  Castro,  the  king  of  the  rabble  of  Quito,  who  will 
play  an  important  part  in  this  story,  a  butcher  by  trade, 
was  a  ruffian,  with  all  the  fierceness  and  viciousness  of  a 
ruffian  ;  but  the  general  saying  that  bullies  are  cowards 
was  not  corroborated  by  his  case.  If  he  was  reckless  of 
the  bones  and  lives  of  others,  he  was  as  reckless  of  his  own. 
To  break  a  horse  fresh  from  the  potreros  of  the  coast,  to 
bait  an  untamed  steer  fresh  from  the  paramos  of  Mounts 
Cayambi  or  Antisana,  to  engage  in  a  brawl  with  four  or 
five  men  against  him,  were  feats  from  which  he  shrank  no 
more  than  from  abusing  a  defenseless  woman  or  beating  an 
unresisting  Indian.  His  brutality  made  him  an  object  of 
fear,  while  his  great  physical  strength  and  power  of  will 
made  him  a  leader  of  the  populace,  whom  he  could  sway 
at  pleasure.  While  he  was  the  terror  of  all  those  of  his 
class  who  dared  to  oppose  him,  he  was  a  protector  and 
shield  to  those  who  did  his  bidding  and  followed  his  lead. 
In  the  French  .Revolution  he  would  have  been  one  of  the 
noisiest  partisans  of  Marat ;  at  Quito  he  was  the  ally  of  all 
those  who  sought  to  disturb  the  public  peace  or  to  foment 
riots  and  insurrections. 

To  Paredes  he  presented  himself  with  cringing  submis- 
siveness. 

"  Well,  Castro,  I  see  you  have  kept  your  word  like  a  man. 
You  have  not  betaken  yourself  to  a  sanctuary  or  left  the 
city.  How  do  your  matters  stand  ?" 

"  I  thank  your  Excellency  most  gratefully  for  the  kind- 


BOOK    II.      REALITIES.  65 

ness  you  have  shown  to  me,  and  for  which  I  shall  consider 
myself  eternally  your  Excellency's  debtor." 

"  Enough  of  that,  my  good  man  !  Give  us  an  account 
of  your  troubles.  Is  Mama  Catita  dead  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Excellency,  thanks  to  the  Virgin ;  for  her 
death  would  have  put  an  innocent  man  to  a  great  deal  of 
trouble." 

"  Had  she  been  beaten  very  severely  ?  " 

"  Well,  your  Grace,  I  do  not  know.  I  am  ashamed  to 
say  that  I  had  taken  a  little  too  much  of  her  abominable 
rum  yesterday  afternoon  ;  besides,  it  was  dark,  and  there 
was  so  much  confusion  that  I  can  not  remember  how  it 
came.  We  were  all  to  blame,  but  I  did  less  than  any  of 
them." 

"  Does  she  charge  it  on  vou  ?  " 

O  »• 

"  She  did  at  first;  but  I  went  to  see  her  very  early  this 
morning,  before  she  could  make  her  statement  to  the  au 
thorities.  1  told  her — but  you  must  not  betray  me  Seiior — 
that  I  would  pay  her,  innocent  as  I  was,  rather  than  get 
into  trouble.  She  then  commenced  to  haggle  about  the 
amount,  and  1  paid  her  half  of  it  down,  and  promised  to 
pay  her  the  other  half  next  week.  Hence,  when  the  no 
tary  came,  she  said  that  she  preferred  no  charge  against 
me,  and  that  she  was  too  weak  to  submit  to  an  examina 
tion." 

"  Well,  Castro,"  said  Paredes,  in  his  blandest  manner,  "  I 
think  you  are  still  in  a  very  bad  predicament.  If  she  should 
feel  death  upon  her,  she  would  tell,  and  it  would  go  ill  with 
3Tou  ;  for  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  you  are  the 
one  who  did  it.  But  the  Alcalde  del  Crimen  is  my  particu 
lar  friend,  who  will  do  anything  to  oblige  me.  He  will,  if 
it  becomes  necessary,  at  my  request,  leave  a  loop-hole  for 
your  escape.  It  may  be  a  somewhat  difficult  matter,  but 
having  taken  an  interest  in  you  once,  I  am  determined  to 
help  you  through" — 

"  May  God  and  his  Holy  Mother  bless  your  Grace  through 


66  THE  SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

eternity.  Juan  Castro  will  be  your  most  devoted,  your 
most  faithful  servant,  whose  eyes,  and  ears,  and  arm,  and 
dagger,  if  necessary,  will  always  be  at  your  disposal." 

u  Take  a  glass  of  this  fine  liquor,  man,"  said  Paredes, 
whose  friendly  condescension  increased  as  the  interview 
progressed. 

"A  thousand  thanks  for  your  Excellency's  kindness  to 
one  so  humble  as  myself.  May  your  Grace  live  many 
years,  and  death  to  your  enemies !" 

"  How  is  your  sister,  Castro ;  the  girl  whom  they  call 
the  '  Flower  of  Machangara  ?'  You  have  every  reason  to 
be  proud  of  her." 

"  Well,  your  Grace,  she  lives  with  my  mother,  and 
mother  and  I  do  not  agree  very  well " — 

"lunderstand.  Butstill  a  brother  naturally  takes  a  jealous 
interest  in  the  honor  and  reputation  of  a  sister.  You  may 
not  care  for  her  much  at  present,  but  let  her  be  made 
the  subject  of  questionable  remarks  or  insinuations,  and 
your  feelings  of  indifference  would  at  once  give  way  to  in 
tense  concern.  "Would  they  not?" 

"  Of  course  they  would.  But  why  does  your  Excellency 
ask  these  questions?" 

"  Well,"  said  Paredes,  evasively,  "  I  have  no  special  object 
in  doing  so.  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  truth  in  the 
rumors  I  have  heard." 

"  Humors !  Has  your  Grace  heard  any  rumors  about 
my  sister?" 

"  Not  exactly  rumors,  Castro ;  only  surmises,  you  know ; 
perhaps  mistaken  surmises  at  that." 

"  Your  Grace  would  oblige  me  very  much  by  acquaint 
ing  me  with  the  nature  of  these  surmises,"  said  Castro, 
getting  uneasy  and  excited  under  the  artistic  treatment  of 
Paredes. 

"  Does  your  sister  still  receive  the  visits  of  youn  g  Ro 
berto  Sanchez  ?" 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES,  67 

"  I  have  not  been  to  my  mother's  house  for  many  months, 
Serior.  I  never  heard  that  my  sister  received  his  visits." 

"Well,  there  may  be  no  harm  in  them,  Castro.  They 
may  be  pure  friendship,  you  know.  But  if  a  nobleman 
constantly  visits  a  girl  whom  he  could  not  possibly  marry, 
the  neighbors,  you  know,  will  draw  their  inferences" — 

"  I  see !     I  see  !" 

"  These  inferences  may  be  entirely  mistaken ;  and  in  this 
case,  I  have  no  doubt,  they  are;  bat,  nevertheless,  such  in 
ferences  will  be  drawn,  and  spoken  about,  and  repeated 
until  they  become  a  matter  of  public  notoriety.  It  can  not 
be  very  pleasant  for  a  brother  to  know  that  his  sister  has 
been  made  the  object  of  such  notoriety." 

Castro  ground  his  teeth,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  perhaps,  you  would  do  well 
to  watch  over  the  conduct  of  your  sister,  and  to  exercise  a 
little  brotherly  authority  over  her.  You  might  make  her 
save  appearances,  at  least.  Your  sister  is  too  good  to  be 
the  mistress  of  any  nobleman,  Eoberto  Sanchez  not  ex- 
cepted." 

"  I  kiss  your  Excellency's  hands  for  having  opened  my 
eyes  to  this  matter.  I  had  not  heard  of  it  before,  and  had 
not  thought  of  it  in  the  way  a  brother  should  think  of  such 
matters." 

"And  now,  Juan  Castro,  take  another  glass  of  this  ex 
cellent  mistela,  and  then  leave  me,  for  I  have  several  im 
portant  matters  to  attend  to,  this  evening.  Wheneveryou 
are  in  trouble,  come  to  me,  and  1  shall  protect  you  to  the 
best  of  my  ability." 

Castro  left  and  a  few  minutes  afterward  the  Mayor- 
domo  returned  from  his  mission.  He  had  gone  to  Car- 
rera's  house  first,  but  Mariano  would  not  let  him  see  his 
master,  claiming  that  he  was  in  bed.  The  man  then  went 
to  the  barracks,  and  easily  caught  a  glimpse  of  Count 
Valverde,  who  sat  alone  in  his  room,  brooding  in  silence. 
"  Something  must  have  afflicted  my  master,  to-day,"  said 


68  THE    SECRET   OP    THE   ANDES. 

his  servant  to  the  Mayordomo.     "  He  is  not  like  himself  at 
all.     I  neversuw  him  so  before." 

The  Mayordomo  felt  satisfied  that  Mama  Ilucu's  curse 
had  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  Spaniard, 
and  left  him  to  his  meditations  without  delivering  his 
Master's  message.  Don  Tomas  then  returned  to  Can-era's 
house,  but  his  repeated  attempts  to  penetrate  to  that 
gentleman's  bedroom  were  frustrated  by  the  astuteness 
and  fierceness  of  Mariano. 

Still  Paredes,  on  hearing  his  servant's  report,  saw  no 
cause  for  apprehension,  and  so  the  two  returned  to  the 
mountain  that  night,  with  a  relay  of  fresh  Indians,  who 
were  threatened  with  death  if  they  should  dare  to  betray 
the  secret  of  the  expedition. 

But  their  work  of  the  night  proved  as  fruitless  and  un 
satisfactory  as  their  labors  in  the  afternoon.  Nothing  was 
discovered.  No  clue  to  the  secret  of  the  subterranean 
passage  could  be  found ;  and,  exhausted,  angry,  and  dis 
appointed,  they  returned  to  the  villa  shortly  before  day 
break. 

Mama  Rucu  was  right  when  she  told  Carrera  that  his 
friend  Paredes  was  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  burrowing 
and  digging  for  what  he  should  never  find. 

Next  morning  when  Paredes  returned  to  the  spot,  he 
found  the  bronze  plate  gone  and  the  passage  closed.  The 
ceiling  of  the  passage  seemed  to  have  caved  in  and  choked 
it  up  completely.  How  this  destruction  had  been  accom 
plished,  and  by  whom  it  was  done,  Paredes  could  not  dis 
cover.  Baffled  in  his  avaricious  hopes,  he  hastened  to  in 
form  his  two  companions  of  the  check  with  which  their 
explorations  had  met.  And  now  we  shall  leave  both  him 
and  Carrera,  in  order  to  secure  a  better  acquaintance  with 
other  characters  of  our  story. 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  69 


CHAPTER  II. 

DOLORES. 

TWENTY-FOUR  hours  have  elapsed  since  Carrera's  return 
from  Mama  Rucu's  cottage.  It  is  morning.  Mass  has 
just  been  said  in  the  private  chapel  of  the  M.arquis,  be 
cause  the  condition  of  the  Marchioness  makes  it  extremely 
difficult  and  painful  for  her  to  leave  the  house.  The  old 
lady  has  retired  for  a  long  conference  on  spiritual  and 
other  matters  with  her  confessor  and  friend,  the  curate  of 
the  parish.  Dolores  and  her  aunt,  Dona  Catita,  are  in 
their  dressing-room,  the  latter  combing  the  long  and  beau 
tiful  hair  of  her  niece.  The  two  ladies  are  dressing  for  a 
call  they  intend  to  make  on  Doiia  Carmen  Duchicela,  of 
Hiobamba,  an  Indian  princess,  related  to  the  royal  house 
of  Atahualpa,  who  has  come  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  the 
Capital,  to  offer  her  devotions  at  the  celebrated  shrine  of 
San  Francisco. 

Dolores  is  the  ruling  spirit  of  her  father's  house.  Her 
mother,  a  confirmed  invalid  and  a  lady  of  indolent  dis 
position,  leaves  everything  to  her  daughter's  care.  Her 
father,  a  vain  and  weak-minded,  but  very  ambitious  man, 
worships  her  as  the  brightest  ornament  of  his  family  cir 
cle,  and  the  most  accomplished  lady  of  Quito.  He  rec~ 
ognizes  her  superior  intellect,  seeks  her  advice  on  almost 
all  occasions,  and  invariably  defers  to  her  opinion.  His 
sister,  Dona  Catita,  a  worn-out  flirt,  who  can  hardly  bring 
herself  to  realize  that  her  day  is  gone,  clings  to  her  niece 
because,  through  her  and  with  her,  she  can  still  connect 
herself  with  all  there  is  of  social  attractions  and  love-and- 
merry-makirig  in  Quito.  Moreover,  Dona  Catita  has  little 
or  no  property  of  her  own.  She  is  dependent  on  her 


70  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

brother,  and,  as  he  is  ruled  by  his  daughter,  Dona  Catitu 
is  politic  enough  to  propitiate  the  power  behind  the  throne- 
Add  to  all  this  the  adulation  which  Dolores  receives  at  the 
hands  of  the  young  gentry  of  Quito,  and  we  have  an 
almost  irresistible  combination  to  make  her,  what  thou 
sands  of  others  would  have  been  in  her  place,  a  spoiled 
child. 

But  Dolores  is  a  child  of  the  Ecuadorian  table-lands, 
quick-witted,  clear-headed,  self-reliant,  with  never-failing 
presence  of  mind,  cool — cold  almost — reflecting,  reasoning, 
perhaps  calculating,  never  carried  away  by  passion  or  illu 
sions,  young  in  years,  but  old  in  her  views  of  life  and  her 
opinions  of  human  nature.  When  we  say  young  ic  years, 
we  leave  room  for  allowance,  Dolores  is  no  longer  in  her 
teens.  She  has  already  tasted  the  cup  of  bitterness  and 
disappointment.  She  is  a  widow.  After  a  short  year  of 
married  life,  her  husband  fell  a  victim  to  the  prevailing 
mania  for  dueling.  Unprepared  for  the  dreadful  shock, 
Dolores  saw  his  bloody  corpse  brought  home  to  her 
father's  house,  and  years  could  not  efface  the  impression 
that  fearful  event  produced.  His  death  was  a  severe 
blow  to  her  hopes,  because  he  died  before  his  father,  and 
left  her  nothing.  She  had  not  loved  him  passionately,  but 
the  loss  of  a  husband  was  to  her  the  loss  of  that  compe 
tency  and  independence  which  had  been  within  her  grasp. 
Now  she  looks  to  the  future,  not  through  the  rosy  haze  of 
youthful  hopefulness  and  confidence,  but  with  a  constant 
regard  to  her  own  position  in  life,  and  its  difficulties  and 
probable  embarrassments.  Her  father  loves  her  blindly, 
and  dotes  upon  her  and  gratifies  all  her  wishes ;  but  her 
father  will  not  live  forever,  and  on  his  death  her  brother, 
now  in  Lima,  will  be  the  head  of  the  family.  On  him  she 
would  then  be  an  humble  dependent;  and  if  he  should 
marry,  which  emergency  must  arise  sooner  or  later,  what 
would  her  position  be  ? 


BOOK   1£.       REALTTIES.  71 

"Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Doiia  Catita,  "that  Senor  Car- 
rera  has  not  been  here  for  two  evenings  in  succession?" 

"  Why  do  you  find  it  strange,  Auntie?" 

"  Because  he  hardly  ever  misses  a  night." 

"Well,  the  night  after  their  gambling  extravagance  he 
probably  needed  rest,  as  we  all  did ;  and,  by  the  way,  he 
played  not  only  unluckily,  but  also  very  foolishly.  He  is 
no  match  for  Paredes  or  the  Count. 

"  And  why  did  he  not  come  last  night?" 

"Do  1  know?     And  why  should  I  care,  Auntie  ?" 

"  Well,  my  child,  you  are  certainly  aware  that  he  loves 
you." 

"At  all  events,  he  wishes  me  to  believe  it." 

"  Surely  you  do  not  dislike  him?'' 

"Oh,  no,  Auntie!  I  like  him  very  well.  I  am  not  in 
love  with  him.  I  have  often  told  you,  Auntie,  that  I  am 
not  in  love  with  anybody.  Julio  de  Carrera  is  a  gentle- 
tleman,  but  whether  he  would  be  eligible  as  a  husband  re 
mains  to  be  seen." 

"  I  am  curious  to  hear  your  objections  to  him,  Doloritas  ; 
for  I  must  confess  that,  of  all  your  admirers,  he  impresses 
me  most  favorably." 

"You  love  me,  Auntie  dear,  do  you  not?" 

"  What  a  question,  my  darling  !  " 

"  Well,  would  you  wish  me,  whom  you  love,  to  be  the 
wife  of  a  poor  man  ?  " 

"  Is  it  settled  that  Carrera  will  be  a  poor  man  ?  " 

"  Is  it  settled  that  he  will  be  a  rich  man?  His  uncle  is 
a  rich  man.  He  may  leave  everything  to  Don  Julio.  But 
his  uncle,  although  old.  is  yet  robust  and  full  of  vitality. 
He  may  marry  again  and  have  children  of  his  own.  He 
is  a  very  pious  man,  and  may  leave  most  of  his  property. to 
convents  and  churches.  O,  dearest  Aunt !  1  can  not,  I  will 
not  be  poor.  I  have  been  reared  in  affluence.  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  have  all  my  wishes  gratified.  It  would 
break  my  heart  to  change  to  poverty,  and  to  live,  like  so 


72  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

many  of  our  noble  families,  that  have  nothing  but  their 
titles  and  what  little  they  can  grind  out  of  a  few  wretched 
Indian*." 

"But,  darling,  Don  Julio  maybe  his  uncle's  heir  after 
all,  and  you  should  consider  this  very  great  probability, 
and  not  throw  him  away  entirely.  There  is  a  difference 
between  not  committing  one's  self  and  giving  no  encour 
agement  at  all.  He  may  lose  heart,  and  be  weaned  away 
from  you  entirely.  Nearly  every  girl  in  town  would  be 
delighted  with  him  for  a  husband,  and  if  you  starve  his 
affection  some  one  else  will  get  him  into  her  net,  and  by 
encouraging  him,  and  meeting  him  more  than  half  way, 
secure  him." 

"You  are  not  altogether  wrong,  Auntie ;  perhaps  I  have 
been  too  reserved  with  him." 

"  I  have  noticed  that  you  treat  the  Spanish  Count  with 
a  perceptible  preference." 

"  I  must  confess  that  1  am  interested  in  the  Count.  He 
is  a  real  Count  of  old  Castile.  1  often  think  how  greatly 
I  should  prefer  a  life  in  Spain  to  this  dull,  slow,  uninterest 
ing,  out-of-the-way  city  of  ours." 

"But,  my  child,"  said  Dona  Catita,  "you  want  a  rich 
husband,  and  the  Count  has  nothing  but  his  title." 

"Does  he  not  stand  high  in  the  favor  of  the  Viceroy? 
And  is  it  not  probable  that  His  Highness  will  soon  help  him 
to  a  profitable  position  ?  Do  not  most  of  these  Spanish 
officers  enrich  themselves  in  the  colonies  ?  " 

"  That  may  be  all  true,  Doloritas,  but  it  may  take  a 
long  time,  and  you  should  not  wait  until  your  youth  and 
beauty  fade.  There  is  no  danger  of  it  just  now  ;  but  you 
are  no  longer  so  very  young,  my  child.  Look  at  me,  and 
take  a  warning  example.  If  I  have  remained  an  old  maid, 
in  this  country,  where  ladies  are  so  scarce,  it  was  my  own 
fault.  I  frittered  away  opportunities  until  they  ceased  to 
present  themselves." 


BOOK   II.       REALITIES.  73 

A  long  pause  followed,  which  was  broken  by  Dofta  Ca- 
tita  :  "  What  do  you  think  of  Paredes,  child  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  man,  Auntie.  He  has  all  the  energy  of  a  man. 
He  lacks  the  graces  of  scholarly  refinement,  and,  perhaps, 
is  not  as  scrupulously  honorable  as  Carrera;  but  he  will 
make  his  way  in  life.  He  looks  to  success,  and  his  own 
affairs  are  prospering,  while  those  of  almost  all  his  young 
friends  are  sadly  deranged." 

Here  the  conversation  of  the  two  ladies  was  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Santos,  the  nurse,  whom  our  readers 
already  know:  "Nina,  your  father,  the  Marquis,  wishes 
to  see  you  for  a  few  moments." 

"  I  am  coming,  Mamita,"  said  Dolores,  arising  hastily,  and 
throwing  a  shawl  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  she  repaired 
to  her  father's  room,  which  was  in  another  part  of  the  spa 
cious  mansion. 

The  Marquis  received  her  at  the  door.  "  One  moment, 
Daughter,  dear,"  he  said,  leading  her  to  his  room.  "Your 
young  head  generally  sees  more  clearly  than  mine,  with 
all  its  gray  hairs.  1  am  puzzled,  and  I  want  your  opinion 
and  advice." 

"  What  is  it,  dear  Papa,  you  wicked  flatterer  ?  Do  you 
want  to  turn  the  head  of  your  own  child  ?" 

"  Listen,"  he  said.  "  You  know  I  have  seen  the  new 
member  of  the  Eoyal  Audience,  but  I  have  not  told  you 
what  passed  between  us.  The  first  time  I  waited  on  him, 
he  told  me  that  I  stood  high  at  Court ;  that  the  King  had 
frequently  heard  of  me,  and  had  even  condescended  to  order 
his  Secretary  of  State  to  write  me  a  confidential  letter  in 
his  name  concerning  affairs  of  grave  importance.  This 
letter  the  new  Auditor  has  brought  with  him  from  Spain, 
and  he  said  he  would  give  it  to  me  as  soon  as  he  had 
opened  his  trunks  and  boxes.  The  next  time  I  called  upon 
him,  he  said  nothing  about  the  letter,  but  he  seemed  to  bo 
in  raptures  over  my  horse,  '  Chimbo,'  your  favorite.  Ho 


74  THE    SECRET   OP    THE    ANDES. 

said  that  the  possession  of  such  a  horse  would  make  him 
perfectly  happy  " — 

"  Papa,  you  have  not  given  '  Chimbo  '  away?" 
"  What  could  I  do.  Daughter  dear?  He  is  the  new  Aud 
itor,  and  I  have  cases  pending  in  the  Royal  Audience.  It 
would  have  been  highly  impolitic  not  to  conciliate  him. 
And  so  I  said  the  horse  was  his,  and  should  be  at  his  dis 
posal  the  moment  he  sent  for  him." 

"And  so  my  poor  Chimbo  is  gone,"  said  Dolores,  with  a 
sigh.     "  It  is  too  bad  !" 

"  Before  I  left  the  Auditor,  I  ventured  the  question 
whether  he  had  already  unpacked  his  trunks  and  boxes  ; 
but  he  said  that  he  had  not  yet  had  the  time.  He  said  that 
he  would  first  of  all  open  the  box  containing  his  dispatches 
and  correspondence,  and  that  I  should  have  the  King's  let 
ter  the  next  time  I  called  on  him." 
"  Well  ?" 

"  When  I  called  on  him  .a  day  or  two  afterward,  he  re 
gretted  that  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  find  the  letter.     lie 
said  that  he  had  searched  for  it,  but  had  not  found  it  in  his 
dispatch-box.     He  promised,  however,  that  he  would  go 
over  his  papers  again  in  order  to  find  it." 
"  Did  you  see  him  since  ?" 
"  Yes,  my  child,  yesterday." 
"  Had  he  found  the  letter  ?" 

"  No,  child,  he  seemed  to  be  much  alarmed  about  it,  and 
said  that  the  unaccountable  disappearance   of  the  letter 
had  caused  him  extreme  uneasiness,  because  he  was  satis 
fied  that  the  letter  contained  matters  of  vital  interest  to 
me,  and  of  great  importance  to  the  colony." 
"And  you  did  not  understand  him,  Father  ?" 
"Understand  him  !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 
"  That  he   has  had  this  letter  in   his  possession  all  this 
time ;  that  he  has  not  mislaid  it  at  all ;  that  it  is  ready  for 
delivery  to  you  ;    but  that  his  Excellency,    the   Auditor, 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  75 

wants  money  for  placing  it  in  your  hands.  That  'a  what  I 
mean,  Father,  dear." 

"  Fool,  fool  that  I  was  !"  exclaimed  the  Marquis,  beating 
his  forehead  with  his  fist.  "  You  are  right.  The  Spaniard 
wants  money,  and  the  thought  that  this  was  the  cause  of 
his  procrastination  had  never  entered  my  mind.  But  who 
could  have  thought  of  such  meanness?  Caramba  !  Don 
Alonzo  Sanchez  is  right,  after  all,  about  these  Spanish  cor 
morants  !  And  now,  Doloritas,  what  shall  I  do?  Perhaps 
the  whole  thing  is  an  invention.  Perhaps  the  letter  he 
speaks  of  is  some  indifferent  and  unimportant  circular  or 
routine  document  of  no  moment,  gotten  up  for  the  express 
purpose  of  extortion.  Shall  1  pay  him  money  to  get  it?" 

"  You  gave  him  the  horse,  Father,  because  you  said  you 
had  cases  pending  in  his  court,  making  it  desirable  to  gain 
his  good  will.  If  you  do  not  give  him  money  for  the 
King's  letter,  you  will  not  gain  his  good  will,  and  you 
have  sacrificed  my  noble  Chimbo  to  no  purpose." 

"  You  are  right,  Daughter  ;  you  are  always  right.  What 
a  wonderful  head  for  business  you  have.  But  suppose  we 
are  both  mistaken.  Suppose  I  should  offer  him  money, 
and  he  should  refuse  it" — 

Dolores  gave  a  ringing  laugh  :  "  Then  send  me  to  a  con 
vent,  Father,  for  the  rest  of  my  days.  Now,  Father,  if  I 
had  to  do  this  piece  of  work,  I  should  do  it  in  this  way  :  I 
should  make  up  my  mind  first  how  much  it  will  take  to 
satisfj1"  the  Spaniard's  rapacity.  Then  I  would  tell  him 
that  I  wanted  him  to  look  upon  me  as  his  confidential 
friend ;  that  the  voyage  to  America  must  have  cost  him  a 
great  deal;  that  it  must;  cost  him  a  great  deal  to  establish 
himself  in  a  strange  city  ;  that  he  would  require  money, 
and  that  nothing  would  please  me  better  than  if  his  Ex 
cellency  would  condescend  to  accept  a  loan  from  me  for 
his  present  needs.  You  must  also  tell  him  that  you  have 
no  immediate  use  for  the  money,  and  that  he  might  keep 
it  as  long  as  he  pleased.  You  will  then  sec,  Father,  how 


76  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

soon  the  King's  letter  will  bo  in  your  hands.  If  tbe  letter 
contains*  nothing,  then  consider  that  you  have  spent  your 
money  to  win  your  cases.  If  the  letter  is  important,  you 
mast  have  it,  and  you  can  not  get  it  in  any  other  way. 
We  shall  have  to  buy  it  from  the  Spaniard,  Papa." 

The  Marquis  paced  the  room  uneasily,  and  finally,  stop 
ping  before  his  daughter,  Raid :  "  You  are  right,  child  ; 
3*ou  are  right.  I  shall  do  as  you  say.  A  small  amount  of 
money  would  not  accomplish  the  purpose.  I  shall  have  to 
give  him  a  great  deal,  and  it  inconveniences  me  very  much 
to  do  so  at  present.  Still,  there  is  no  help  for  it.  I  shall 
do  it  at  once.  Will  you  be  here  when  I  return?" 

"  I  intended  to  call  on  Dofia  Carmen  Duchicela,  the  In 
dian  princess,  with  Aunt  Catita." 

"You  will  not  find  her  at  home  now.  She  will  attend 
high  mass  at  San  Francisco  at  ten  o'clock,  and  it  will 
nearly  be  twelve  before  she  returns  to  her  house.  Wait 
till  I  come  back,  and  then  make  your  call.  I  may  want  to 
speak  to  you  again  after  I  have  seen  the  Auditor." 

"  I  shall  wait  for  3*ou,  Papacito  !"  said  Dolores,  kissing 
her  father  as  he  turned  to  go. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    KING'S    LETTER. 

Dolores  was  right. 

The  Marquis  poured  his  golden  rain  into  the  lap  of  the 
Spanish  judge,  and  the  result  was  that  the  latter  imme 
diate^'  found  the  letter.  "He  had  found  it  where  he  had 
least  expected  it  to  be.  He  had  inadvertently  misplaced  it. 
How  COULD  he  have  been  so  absentminded?  How  COULD 
he  have  searched  for  it  everywhere  except  where  he  had 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  77 

originally  placed  it?  Sheer  forgetful  ness.  Senor  Marquis 
— most  unaccountable  forgetful  ness." 

And  now  to  the  letter.  It  was  a  most  astounding  docu 
ment.  The  Marquis  read  it  and  re-read  it,  and  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  whether  to  rejoice  over  the  confidence 
of  his  sovereign,  or  whether  to  be  bewildered  by  the  re 
sponsibility  his  Majesty  compelled  him  to  shoulder.  The 
Marquis  was  still  turning  the  sacred  document  in  his  loyal 
hands  when  Dolores  opened  the  door  : 

"Well,  Father." 

"  You  were  right  as  to  the  Auditor,  my  child.  He  is  a 
greedy  scoundrel,  who,  I  fear,  will  continue  to  bleed  me. 
But  that  letter,  child  !  It  contains  the  most  difficult,  the 
most  responsible  task  ever  forced  upon  me,  and  it  is  of 
such  a  nature  that  I  can  not,  dare  not  consult  about  it  with 
anybody.  O,  that  I  could  at  least  have  the  support  of 
your  opinion !" 

''And  why  can  you  not,  Father?  My  opinion  is  the 
cheapest  and  the  nearest  commodity  at  your  command." 

"Yes!  yes,  my  child !  But  I  do  not  know  whether  I 
can  let  you  read  this  letter.  You  are  a  woman,  a  young 
woman.  You  might  unintentionally  betray  the  important 
secret  it  contains. 

"Father,"  said  Dolores,  sternly.  "If  I  have  ever  been 
unworthy  of  your  confidence,  why  have  you  continued, 
unsolicited,  to  honor  me  with  it  until  this  very  day,  when 
the  result  has  proven  that  I  was  not  mistaken  ?" 

"  It  is  true,  child,  you  are  a  wonderful  woman,  and  I  can 
not  do  without  you.  But  will  you  swear,  Dolores,  never 
to  breathe  these  secrets  of  state  to  any  living  soul,  either 
directly  or  by  hints,  allusions,  or  indirections?" 

"  I  shall  swear  if  you  command  it,  Father." 

"  Swear  by  the  Holy  Trinity." 

"  I  swear." 

"  Well,  then,  read  the  letter." 

Dolores  read  : 


78  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

"  MADRID,  Oct.  15th,  1591. 

"  To  His  Excellency,  the  Marquis  Vicente  Guitierrez  de 
Solando  : 

"  Most  Excellent  Senor: — His  Most  Gracious  Majesty,  the 
Catholic  King,  our  Lord  Don  Felipe  II,  whom  God  may 
preserve,  has  instructed  me  to  write  to  your  Excellency  from 
notes  made  by  me  under  his  Majesty's  own  dictation. 

"  His  Majesty,  who  takes  the  greatest  possible  pains  to 
keep  himself  informed  as  to  the  affairs  of  all  his  dominions, 
has  been  highly  gratified  by  the  zeal  displayed  by  your  Ex 
cellency  in  His  Majesty's  service,  and  by  the  judgment  and 
loyalty  for  which  your  Excellency  has  been  distinguished. 
Placing  implicit  confidence  in  your  Excellency's  devotion 
and  ability  to  carry  out  a  difficult  and  delicate  task,  His 
Majesty  has  instructed  the  undersigned  to  communicate 
to  your  Excellency  the  following  orders,  which  will  re 
quire  the  strictest  secrecy  and  the  utmost  caution  on  the 
part  of  your  Excellency,  if  His  Majesty's  object  is  to  bo 
successfully  accomplished.* 

"His  Majesty  has  learned  with  great  regret,  that  resist 
ance  will  be  attempted  at  Quito,  and  perhaps  also  in  other 
cities  of  Peru,  to  the  collection  of  the  Alcabala,  the 
introduction  of  which  in  the  Viceroyalty  of  Peru,  has  been 
made  imperative  and  inevitable  by  the  pressing  and  over 
whelming  necessities  of  His  Majesty's  service.  The  turbu 
lent  disposition  of  most  of  the  Peruvian  colonists  and  their 
proneness  to  insurrection  and  rebellion  are  well  known  to 
His  Majesty.  His  Majesty  remembers  the  civil  wars  which 
disgraced  the  early  history  of  his  Peruvian  possessions,  and 
their  frequent  and  dangerous  resistance  to  the  royal  com 
mands.  His  Majesty  is  fully  determined  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  the  horrors  and  devastations  of  internecine 
strife.  But  the  necessities  of  His  Majesty's  service  have 
sadly  depleted  his  American  possessions  of  available  troops. 

*  See  the  introductory  chapters  of  Gayarre's  excellent  essay  on 
Philip  II.  of  Spain. 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  79 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  becomes  not  only  a  necessity, 
but  also  a  duty  of  statesmanship  and  good  government  to 
resort  to  strategy.  If  the  wild  and  dangerous  beast  of  re 
bellion  can  not  be  overcome  in  open  contest,  it  must  be  en 
snared  or  entrapped.  The  dragon  must  be  destroyed,  no 
matter  how  it  is  done. 

"If,  therefore,  His  Majesty's  strong  and,  to  all  appear 
ances,  but  too  well-founded  apprehensions  of  armed  resist 
ance  should  unfortunately  be  verified  at  Quito,  His  Majesty 
commands  your  Excellency  secretly  and  with  all  the  cau 
tion  such  a  difficult  and  dangerous  task  requires,  to  induce 
some  gentleman  of  influence,  social  standing,  and  popularity, 
to  side  with  the  insurgents,  and,  if  necessary  or  possible,  to 
place  himself  at  their  liead,  in  order  to  break  the  dangerous 
force  of  their  movements,  to  be  informed  of  their  intentions, 
and  to  guide  them  into  such  channels  as  to  secure  the  final  and 
easy  victory  of  the  lawfully  constituted  authorities.  To  such 
a  man,  entire  indulgence  and  a  full  pardon  for  all  the  trea 
sonable  acts  or  utterances  of  which  he  may  have  to  be 
guilty,  apparently,  in  order  to  serve  His  Majesty,  are  here 
by  fully  guaranteed  under  His  Majesty's  own  hand. 

"  The  selection  of  such  a  man  could  not  be  intrusted  to 
the  .Royal  Audience,  the  members  of  which  are  Spaniards, 
and  not  so  situated  as  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  such  inti 
mate  acquaintance  with  the  characters  and  dispositions  of 
the  leading  natives  of  your  city,  as  would  be  indispensable  in 
making  a  prudent  choice.  Nor  can  this  task  be  confided 
to  the  municipal  authorities,  for  these  have  fomented  and 
prepared  the  rebellion  by  protesting  against  His  Majesty's 
orders,  and  sending  remonstrance  after  remonstrance 
against  the  imposition  of  the  Alcabala,  to  His  ^Majesty's 
Council  of  the  Indies  and  to  His  Majesty  personally.  The 
ringleaders  of  the  present  municipality  will  hereafter  have 
to  be  proceeded  against. 

"  For  these  reasons,  His  Majesty  has  concluded  to  con- 


80  THE    SECRET   OF    THE    ANDES. 

fide  the  task  of  making  this  difficult  selection  to  your  Ex 
cellency,  a  native  of  the  colony,  a  man  of  judgment  and 
patriotism,  and,  above  all,  a  loyal,  trusty,  and  zealous  ser 
vant  of  His  Majesty.  In  this  choice,  your  Excellency 
will  be  guided  by  the  greatest  care  ;  for  the  consequences 
of  a  mistake  would  be  irreparable.  The  man  whom  your 
Excellency  will  take  into  your  confidence  must  not  only  be 
the  right  man,  but  mnst  also  be  sure  to  accept.  Any  mis 
take  in  this  regard  would  be  fatal. 

"  His  Majesty  also  desires  your  Excellency  to  send  from 
time  to  time  full  and  accurate  reports  of  the  condition  of 
affairs  in  the  Viceroyalty,  and  of  all  events  that  may 
transpire  there,  to  the  undersigned.  His  Majesty  desires 
your  Excellency  fully  and  freely  to  criticise,  in  these  re 
ports  the  doiugs,  acts,  and  measures  of  the  Royal  Audi 
ence  and  its  individual  members,  and  to  give  accurate  in 
formation  of  the  disposition,  merits,  and  demerits  of  the 
leading  men  at  Quito,  whether  natives  or  Spaniards,  and 
whether  in  public  or  private  station. 

"  In  order  to  protect  the  privacy  of  these  communica 
tions,  secret  orders  are  herewith  inclosed,  directed  to  the 
Superintendents  of  the  Royal  Mails  at  Quito  and  Lima,  be 
cause  His  Majesty  does  not  desire  your  Excellency  to  cor 
respond  with  this  office  through  the  medium  of  the  Royal 
Audience,  but  entirely  unknown  to  the  same. 

"  In  case  of  an  extraordinary  emergency,  His  Majesty 
desires  your  Excellency  immediately  to  address  His  High 
ness  the  Viceroy,  who  has  alreadj'  been  notified  that  such 
communications  from  your  Excellency  are  specially  desfred 
and  authorized  by  His  Majesty. 

"  The  undersigned  now  hopes  that  your  Excellency  has 
fully  comprehended  the  meaning  and  purport  of  this  dis 
patch,  and  the  full  scope  which  His  Majesty  intends  to  give 
to  the  exercise  of  your  Excellency's  discretion  ;  and  with 
the  sincerest  wishes  that  your  Excellency  may  live  many 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  81 

years  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  possible  earthly  happiness, 
the  undersigned  has  the  distinguished  honor  to  remain, 
"  Your  Excellency's  most  obedient  servant, 

'•  JUAN  DE  IDIAQUEZ." 

And,  on  the  outside  of  this  remarkable  document,  there 
was  the  following  indorsement,  in  the  King's  own  hand 
writing,  and  with  his  own  signature  : 

"All  that  is  said  in  the  within  letter  has  been  written  by 
my  command,  and  has  my  full  sanction. 

"  Yo  EL  KEY."     (I,  the  King.) 

This  dispatch  was  accompanied  by  secret  orders  to  the 
mail  superintendents  and  postmasters  to  transmit  all  let 
ters  of  the  Marquis  to  the  Secretary  of  State  with  the 
greatest  possible  dispatch  and  secrecy,  and  without  sub 
mitting  them  to  the  inspection  of  any  officer  or  tribunal, 
not  even  that  of  the  Eoyal  Audience  or  Viceroy,  and  threat 
ening  severe  punishments  in  case  of  disobedience  or  of  a 
violation  of  the  secrecy  which  these  orders  enjoined.  The 
dispatch  itself  contained  frequent  corrections  of  phraseol 
ogy  and  punctuation,  which  were  evidently  made  by  the 
King  himself,  for  Philip  II  loved  to  wade  through  volumes 
of  dreary  pages,  and  correct  the  grammar,  syntax,  and 
st3rle  of  his  subordinates,  as  well  as  to  attend  to  the  mi 
nutest  details  of  the  cumbersome,  complicated,  and  destruc 
tive  machinery  of  his  government. 

These  documents  had  reduced  the  Marquis  to  a  state  of 
helpless  despondency  and  bewilderment,  from  which  he 
hoped  to  be  extricated  by  the  clear-headedness  and  intel 
lectual  resources  of  his  daughter. 

His  eyes  rested  upon  her  while  she  read,  and  silently  he 
awaited  her  opinion.  Dolores  calmly  and  attentively  pe 
rused  the  document,  and,  when  she  had  finished  it,  went 
over  it  for  a  second  time,  re-reading  certain  passages. 


82  THE   SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

Then  dropping  the  hand  which  held  the  papers  into  her 
lap,  she  rested  her  head  on  her  other  hand  and  looked  out 
of  the  window. 

"Well,  child?" 

"  Well,  Father !  " 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"  The  royal  confidence,  if  you  can  justify  it,  Father,  may 
be  of  great  advantage  to  you  and  your  house." 

"But  what  shall  I  do?" 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen.  In  the  first  place,  Papa,  do 
you  really  believe  that  there  will  be  a  rebellion  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  child,  the  people,  high  and  low,  are  unanimous. 
.Even  the  clergy  seem  to  be  in  favor  of  resistance.  Our 
Curate  here  talks  downright  treason.  The  Dominicans  and 
Franciscans  loudly  denounce  the  Alcabala.  The  Jesuits 
alone  are  loyal.  With  the  encouragement  of  the  clergy, 
the  rebellion  would  seem  to  be  irresistible.  I  understand, 
from  the  new  Auditor,  that  the  Alcabala  is  to  be  proclaimed 
to-day.  The  collection  of  the  tax  will  be  resisted  at  once. 
In  fact,  it  will  be  impossible  to  collect  it  here  in  Quito,  and 
from  here  the  fire  will  spread  to  Latacunga,  Ambato,  Rio- 
bamba,  Cuenca,  and  Loja.  The  Government  will  be  power 
less  for  years  to  come.  Then  a  long  struggle  may  follow, 
which  will  plunge  us  into  a  war  like  that  of  Fernando  Ji- 
ron  or  Gonzalo  Pizarro." 

"  If  this  is  your  opinion,  Father,  then  select  your  man 
at  once." 

"But  whom  shall  I  select.  I  have  thought  of  several, 
but  there  are  weighty  objections  to  each  of  them." 

"  Of  whom  have  you  thought?  " 

"  Well,  daughter,"  said  -the  Marquis,  tenderly,  "  I  have 
thought  of  your  own  interests  and  your  own  prospects. 
The  man  who  renders  the  King  such  a  great  service,  will 
be  entitled  to  His  Majesty's  grateful  remembrance,  and,  as 
the  estates  of  the  ring-leaders  will  be  confiscated,  His  Maj 
esty  will  be  enabled  to  show  his  gratitude  without  expense 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  83 

to  Ins  own  treasury.  It  is  natural  that  I,  as  a  loving 
father,  should  have  thought  of  those  first  who  aspire  to  the 
hand  of  my  Doloritas." 

"  Dear  old  Papa  !     And  of  whom  have  you  thought  ?  " 

"I  know  that  my  naughty  child  will  have  her  own  way, 
and  you  shall  have  it,  if  your  choice  is  a  good  one.  But 
if  you  should  want  to  know  my  preference  " — 

"  I  am  dying  to  know  it,  Father!  " 

"  Then,"  continued  the  Marquis,  "I  should  have  to  tell 
you  that,  considei-ing  everything,  I  am  most  favorably  im 
pressed  with  Julio  de  Carrera." 

Dolores  broke  into  a  short,  roguish  laugh. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh,  child  ;  is  he  objectionable  to  you?" 

"  Not  at  all,  Father.  I  should  be  very  willing  to  accept 
him  for  a  husband,  provided  " — 

"Well,  what?" 

"Let  us  postpone  this  part  of  the  question  to  some  other 
occasion.  Julio  de  Carrera,  Father,  would  never  fulfill 
the  commission  you  wish  to  assign  to  him." 

"And  why  not?  Is  he  not  one  of  the  most  popular  men, 
if  not  the  most  popular  young  gentleman  of  Quito?  He 
is  worshiped  by  the  rabble.  They  would  at  once  follow 
his  lead." 

"  Very  true,  Father  ;  but  Carrera  would  never  participate 
in  a  movement  merely  for  the  purpose  of  betraying  it. 
He  is  scrupulously  honorable." 

"  But  is  it  dishonorable  to  serve  the  King  ?  " 

"  ISTo,  Father,  although  opinions  may  differ  as  to  the 
kind  of  service.  It  would  not  be  considered  honorable,  for 
instance,  to  act  as  the  King's  executioner  ;  and  yet  it  may 
be  called  serving  the  King,  to  execute  those  whom,  he  has 
sentenced  to  death.  All  I  can  say,  is  this,  Carrera  will 
never  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  rebellion  or  insurrec 
tion.  But,  if  he  were  to  do  it,  he  would  not  do  it  for 
the  purpose  of  betraying  it. 


84  THE   SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

The  Marqnis  sat  silent  for  many  minutes.  At  last  he 
playfully  pinched  his  daughter's  cheek,  and,  shaking  her 
gently,  he  said,  with  great  warmth  :  "  You  are  right  again — 
always  right,  my  child.  The  role  the  King  wishes  me  to 
assign  to  some  one  is  not  so  very  honorable  or  desirable, 
after  all.  But  no  matter;  the  King's  commands  must  be 
obeyed.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  find  the  man  who  possesses 
the  necessary  qualifications  and  who  will  accept.  I 
thought  of  old  Sanchez,  who  is  one  of  the  loudest  resist- 
ants.  Such  storm-cloud  men  are  easily  changed  by  a  ray 
of  Boyal  sunshine.  But  Sanchez  is  too  old  " — 

"And  would  not  accept  such  a  task,"  interrupted  Do 
lores.  "  He  is  an  enthusiast,  like  his  son,  and,  I  am  afraid, 
has  sealed  his  doom.  But  I  thought,  Father,  you  wanted 
to  select  one  of  my  admirers?" 

"  But  your  admirers  are  too  chivalrous  and  honor 
able." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Father.  There  is  but  one  Carrern 
among  them.  But,  if  the  almost  unerring  instincts  of  a 
woman  should  not  fail  me  this  time,  if  I  am  not  more  wo- 
fully  mistaken  than  I  have  ever  been,  I  believe  I  have 
your  man." 

"  Well,  daughter,"  asked  the  Marquis,  greatly  excited, 
"  who  is  he?" 

"  Manuel  Paredes!" 

The  Marquis  stared  at  her  in  blank  amazement  for  sev 
eral  moments,  then  he  clapped  his  hands,  wildly  struck  the 
table,  and  exclaimed  :"  By  all  the  angels  and  saints  of 
heaven,  you  are  right!  Of  all  the  men  in  the  kingdom 
he  is  the  one  who  will  answer  our  purpose  !" 

"And  do  you  really  think,  Father,  that  there  will  be 
troubles  here  to-day  or  to-morrow  ?" 

"I  do." 

"  Then  go  and  see  him  or  send  for  him  at  once." 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  85 


CHAPTER  IT. 

THE  QUEEN  AND  HER  PEOPLE. 

WHILE  the  Marquis  was  in  attendance  upon  the  new 
member  of  the  Royal  Audience,  an  immense  multitude  of 
Indians  had  been  pouring  into  the  Convent  Church  of 
San  Francisco,  filling  every  available  space  of  the  massive 
edifice.  Numbers  that  were  unable  to  gain  admittance  were 
kneeling  outside,  blocking  up  the  entrance.  A  great  many 
white  people  and  mestizos,  who  had  come  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  Dofia  Carmen  Duchicela  had  to  turn  back,  unable  even 
to  reach  the  door  of  the  crowded  church.  By  common 
consent  possession  had  been  given  up  this  day  to  the  In 
dians,  who  had  nocked  to  Quito  from  all  the  surrounding 
hamlets  and  villages.  They  had  crowded  in  with  such 
eagerness  that  they  seemed  to  have  forgotten  their  usual 
deference  to  their  white  masters,  and  would  not  give  way 
for  any  caballero  who  should  attempt  to  squeeze  through 
the  squalid  multitude.  Only  once  their  ranks  had  opened 
voluntarily,  like  the  waves  of  the  Red  Sea  for  Moses  and 
the  Israelites.  It  was  when  Carrera  and  Roberto  Sanchez, 
preceded  by  Mariano  and  the  Fool,  had  entered  the  build 
ing.  But  the  human  waves  closed  after  them  again,  and 
the  two  young  friends  were  probably  the  only  representa 
tives  of  the  white  race  inside  the  sacred  pile.  A  con 
venient  place  near  one  of  the  pillars  had  been  yielded  to 
them,  from  which  they  could  enjoy  a  full  view  of  the  places 
of  honor  reserved  for  the  Indian  Princess  and  her  suite. 

Seats  had  been  prepared  for  Dona  Carmen  and  a  few  of 
her  companions,  which  they  occupied  during  the  requiem, 
while  during  the  whole  of  the  mass  they  knelt,  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  country.  Dona  Carmen  Duchicela 


86  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

was  surrounded  by  a  number  of  Indian  Caciques  and  their 
wives.  Amonjr  the  former,  the  venerable  form  of  Don 

O 

Sebastian  Collohuaso,  the  Cacique  of  Ibarra,  occupied  a 
prominent  position.  But  the  greatest  deference  was  paid 
to  a  very  old  Indian,  with  snow-white  hair,  who  stood 
nearest  to  the  Princess,  and  who  was  eagerly  pointed  out 
by  the  few  who  knew  him  to  the  many  who  wished  to  see 
his  face. 

And  had  these  thousands  of  Indians  come  to  see  BoSa 
Carmen  ?  Our  readers  know  better.  For  Dona  Carmen 
Duchicela  not  an  Indian  would  have  left  his-  cottage  in 
the  country.  Her  fatbei-,  Cachulima,  was  the  first  native 
Lord  who  welcomed  the  foreign  invaders,  the  murderers 
of  his  kingly  nephew  and  his  noble  brother,  Chalcuchima. 
Cachulima  was  the  first  native  Lord  who  had  come  to  kiss 
the  hand  that  had  smitten  his  race  and  destroyed  its  free 
dom  and  independence.  It  might  be  said  in  his  defense 
that  he  welcomed  these  strangers  because  he  hoped  that 
they  would  deliver  him  from  the  usurpation  of  the  terrible 
Rummagui,  who  had  murdered  all  the  other  Princes  of  the 
blood  in  order  to  secure  the  crown  for  himself.  But  was 
not  the  usurpation  of  Rumirlagui  but  the  result  of  Pizarro's 
invasion  and  his  treacherous  faithlessness  to  confiding 
Atahualpa?  No;  in  the  eyes  of  the  loyal  Indians  of  Quito 
there  was  no  excuse  for  Cachulima.  The  Spanish  Govern 
ment  had  rewarded  his  submissiveness.  He  was  the  only 
native  Lord  who  was  permitted  to  retain  his  lands  and 
vassals,  and  to  remain  exempt  from  all  the  degrading  re 
strictions  and  slavish  regulations  to  which  the  conquered 
race  was  subjected.  There  was  no  sympathy  in  the  In 
dian  heart  for  his  daughter,  Carmen  Duchicela.  Not  for 
her  had  they  crowded  the  church  this  day;  but  by  that 
wonderful  and  still  unexplained  system  of  telegraphy 
which,  even  at  the  present  day,  astonishes  the  uninitiated 
by  the  unaccountable  celerity  and  mysteriousness  with 
which  its  messages  are  transmitted  from  place  to  place, 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  87 

without  regard  to  distance,  it  had  been  given  out  that  Toa 

o  o 

Duchicela,  their  rightful  Queen,  the  legitimate  sovereign 
of  the  country,  the  direct  lineal  descendant  of  Cacha  and 
Atahualpa,  would  avail  herself  of  the  presence  of  her  dis 
tinguished  relative  to  show  herself  to  her  people  at  a  most 
convenient  public  place,  where  thousands  could  see  her, 
and  satisfy  their  loving  and  anxious  minds  that  their 
Queen  still  lived,  and  was  still  among  them.  Thousands 
of  Indian  men  and  women  went  to  bend  their  knees,  not 
before  the  Christian  altars,  which  only  their  lips  revered, 
but  to  prostrate  themselves  with  all  the  blind  devotion  and 
loyalty  of  their  race  before  Toa,  their  unfortunate,  but  ever 
rightful,  Queen.  Of  these  thousands  not  one  had  betrayed 
her  secret;  not  one  had  breathed  it  to  any  of  the  enemies 
of  their  race.  Not  a  white  man  knew  it  but  the  two  who 
were  there  at  the  Queen's  own  invitation.  Not  a  negro, 
not  a  mestizo  knew  it.  Faithfully,  loyally,  scrupulously, 
the  poor,  down-trodden,  outraged,  starving  Indians  had 
kept  the  secret,  which  any  one  of  them  might  have  sold 
for  enough  money  to  buy  his  freedom,  and  to  live  in  afflu 
ence  and  luxury  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  Toa  Duchicela 
was  as  safe  among  them  in  the  crowded  church,  and  in  the 
heart  of  the  city  of  Quito,  as  she  could  have  been  in  the 
mountainous  wilderness  of  Llanganati  or  in  the  impene 
trable  forests  of  the  Napo. 

Carrera's  eyes  sought  her  in  vain.  He  could  not  dis 
cover  her  among  the  companions  of  Doila  Carmen,  who 
occupied  the  most  conspicuous  seat.  He  had  already  com 
municated  this  disappointing  fact  to  his  friend  Eoberto. 
The  religious  function  was  over.  The  procession  of  priests 
filed  away,  and  disappeared  ;  but  the  organ  pealed  on  as 
usual  after  the  celebration  of  high  mass.  And  now  a  sud 
den  commotion  became  noticeable  among  the  multitude  of 
kneeling  Indians,  who,  thus  fur,  had  cowered  on  the  cold 
stones,  almost  motionless.  A  surging  sea  of  Indian  heads 
inclosed  the  cavaliers ;  thousands  of  necks  were  eagerly 


88  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

stretched,  and  thousands  of  eyes  strained,  in  the  direction 
of  the  old  lady  who  sat  in  the  seat  of  honor.  But  still  not 
a  sound  escaped  the  vast  assembly,  and  nothing  was  heard 
but  the  peals  of  the  great  organ  reverberating  through  the 
massive  edifice.  And  now  Dona  Carmen  Duchicela  made 
a  motion  as  if  attempting  to  arise  from  her  chair.  This 
seemed  to  be  the  preconcerted  signal,  and  the  suspense  and 
eagerness  with  which  every  eye  hung  on  the  group  sur 
rounding  her,  were  almost  painful  to  behold.  The  white- 
haired  old  Indian  and  the  Cacique  of  Ibarra  approached 
Dofia  Carmen's  chair,  and  bent  over  her,  as  if  to  offer  her 
their  arms  and  assistance. 

At  this  moment  a  figure,  which  until  then  must  have 
been  concealed  by  the  high  back  of  Dona  Carmen's  chair, 
arose  behind  it.     She  wore  tbe  garb  of  a  common  Indian, 
and  her  head  and  face  were  covered  by  a  coarse  and  heavy 
woolen  shawl.     But  with  a  majestic  and  graceful  motion 
of  her  arms,  she  now  opened  this  shawl,  and  dropped  it 
down  to  her  waist,  uncovering  the  beautiful  face  and  the 
indescribable  eyes  of  Toa.     Her  head  was  encircled  with  a 
golden  diadem,  to  which,  on  her  forehead,  an  immense  and 
magnificent  emerald  was  fastened — the  emblem  of  the  old 
Shyri  Kings.     Her  beauty  was  so  radiant,  and  the  appari 
tion  so  surprising,  that  Roberto  Sanchez,  who  had  not  seen 
her  before,  could  not  restrain  an  exclamation  of  astonish 
ment.     It  passed  unnoticed,  however,  for  it  was  drowned 
in   the  general   and   ill-suppressed   utterances  of  delight 
which  now  broke  forth  from  the  multitude.     The  sight 
which  the  two  cavaliers  beheld  during  the  next  few  seconds 
defies  all  description.     It  was  as  if  the  hearts  of  thousands 
had  gone  forth  to  that  one  being  that  held  them  all.     A 
sigh,  changing  into  a  low  moan,  ran  through  the  multitude. 
Arms  were  stretched  out  to  her;  folded  hands  were  raised 
to  heaven,  as  if  in  prayer  ;  tears  stood  in  almost  every  eye ; 
love,  devotion,  self-sacrifice  beamed  in  every  countenance  ; 
and  when  Toa  slowly  raised   her  shawl,  and  covered  her. 


BOOK    II.      REALITIES.  89 

head  and  face  again,  a  loud,  heart-rending  wail  arose, 
mingled  with  many  a  violent  sob.  Old  Dona  Carmen  now 
had  arisen  and  hobbled  away,  heavily  leaning  on  the  arms 
of  her  two  aged  companions,  and  the  uninitiated  would 
have  supposed  that  the  multitude  had  wept  in  compassion 
for  her  bodily  infirmities.  At  the  same  time,  however,  the 
old  Indian  raised  his  arm,  as  if  in  deprecation,  yet  with  the 
air  of  conscious  authority,  and  the  wailing  ceased,  and  was 
followed,  first  by  an  instant  of  oppressive  stillness,  then  by 
a  general  movement  toward  the  door. 

The  royal  reception  was  over.  Queen  Toa  had  shown 
herself  to  her  people,  and  had  received  the  homage  of  her 
subjects.  The  whole  scene  had  passed  off  in  a  few  seconds 
— an  infinitely  shorter  time  than  its  description  required. 

Roberto  seized  Can-era's  arm  witli  both  his  hands,  and 
said,  rapturously  :  "  She  is  superb  !  Every  inch  a  Queen. 
By  the  Virgin  !  I  would  serve  her  rather  than  our  Philip." 


CIIAPTEE   Y. 

MOTHER,    DAUGHTER,    AND    SON. 

Near  the  southern  approaches  of  the  city,  at  a  consid 
erable  distance  from  the  center  of  population,  not  far  from 
where  the  bridge  over  the  Maehangara  now  stands,  there 
was  a  small  house,  inhabited  by  Mariquita  Ycaza,  the  widow 
of  a  common  soldier  named  Castro,  and  her  daughter  Mer 
cedes,  who  eked  out  a  scanty  living  by  sewing  and  em 
broidering  for  the  rich,  and  by  selling  refreshments  to  those 
travelers  who  chose  to  offer  their  prayers  or  thanksgivings 
upon  leaving  or  returning  to  Quito,  on  or  from  a  journey, 
in  the  chapel  of  the  KeTwr  de'l  buen  viage*  on  the  hill 
south  of  the  River  Machangara. 

*  The  Lord  of  the  Happy  Journey. 


90  THE   SECRET   OP    THE   ANDES. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  great  day  on  which  Toa 
Duchicela  had  shown  herself  to  her  faithful  subjects  in 
the  Church  of  San  Francisco,  Mercedes  was  busily  bending 
ov.er  her  embroidery,  while  her  mother  attended  to  necessary 
house  and  kitchen-work,  or  ministered  to  the  patrons  of 
her  shop.  The  latter  department  of  their  domestic 
economy  was  exclusively  under  the  mother's  charge ;  for 
Mercedes  had  abandoned  the  shop  since  Iloberto  Sanchez 
had  become  a  regular  visitor  to  the  house.  A  little  Mestizo 
girl  had  taken  her  place  as  Dofia  Mariquita's  assistant. 

Busily  Mercedes  bent  over  her  frame,  but  her  thoughts 
were  not  on  the  embroidery.  Quite  near  her  chair  stood  a 
harp,  to  which  she  frequently  resorted,  interrupting  her 
work  in  order  to  try  some  tune  which  she  was  evidently 
composing;  and  when  she  returned  to  her  needle,  her  lips 
moved  audibly,  as  if  endeavoring  to  accommodate  words 
to  her  melody.  At  last  she  threw  her  needle  awny,  and, 
sitting  down  to  her  harp,  struck  up  a  prelude,  and  then 
began  to  sing,  not  loudly,  but  softly,  as  if  still  rehearsing 
her  own  composition,  and  with  all  the  sweetness  and  ten 
derness  of  love,  resignation,  and  grief: 

"  No  me  llames  por  mi  nombre, 

Quc  mi  nombre  se  acabo! 
Llamame  la  flor  marehita  ' 
Que  del  arbol  se  cayo ! 

"  Las  lagrimas  que  derramo 
Amargas  i  saladas  son  ; 
No  te  dan  vida,  florcita, 
Ni  mealivian  el  corazon."* 


*  Call  me  not  the  name  I  bore, 

That  name,  alas!  to  me  is  lost. 
Call  me  but  a  faded  flower, 
Upon  the  earth  by  tempest  tossed. 

Remorseful  are  the  bitter  tears 
That  to  mine  eye-lids  start; 

They  bring  not  life  to  fading  flower, 
Nor  ease  to  aching  heart. 


BOOK    II.      REALITIES.  91 

Her  voice  grow  fainter  and  weaker  as  she  proceeded. 
Her  fingers  ceased  to  touch  the  chords,  and  as  the  last 
sounds  of  instrument  and  voice  died  away,  the  girl  buried 
her  head-  in  her  hands  and  broke  into  a  flood  of  bitter 
tears. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  start.  A  hand  had  touched  her 
lightly  upon  her  shoulder.  Her  mother  stood  behind  her 
and  asked:  "  Why  do  you  weep,  Merceditas?" 

Dona  Mariquita  was  a  tall  and  spare  woman  of  about 
forty-five.  She  was  dressed  very  plainly,  and  covered  with 
the  inevitable  shawl  from  which  the  women  of  the  Andean 
table-lands  seem  to  be  inseparable.  The  battle  of  life  had 
furrowed  her  cheeks  and  sprinkled  her  hair  with  gray,  but 
it  had  not  bent  her  head  or  subdued  her  courage.  Bitter 
experience  had  taught  her  the  habit  of  self-reliance. 
Fate  had  dealt  roughly  with  her,  and,  in  her  way,  she  had 
drawn  lessons  from  it,  which  were  not  of  a  purifying  or 
ennobling  character.  Dolia  Mariquita  knew  the  value  of 
a  competence;  and  there  was  little  that  she  would  not 
have  sacrificed  in  order  to  attain  it.  Still  she  was  full  of 
kindness  to  her  daughter,  whom  she  treated  with  great 
fondness,  not  only  because  she  was  her  daughter,  but  also 
because  she  looked  upon  her  youth  and  beauty  as  capital, 
from  which,  while  it  lasted,  golden  interest  might  be 
drawn.  It  was  Dona  Mariquita  that  had  encouraged  the 
visits  and  pretensions  of  .Roberto  Sanchez.  Mariquita 
Ycaza  de  Castro  knew  that  her  daughter  was  too  poor  and 
too  low  down  in  the  social  scale  to  entertain  any  expecta 
tion  of  a  rich  and  noble  husband.  But  poverty  and  want 
pinch  cruelly,  and  relief,  even  temporary  relief,  from  the 
gnawing  cares  of  indigence,  was  thought  highly  desirable 
by  a  woman  of  Dona  Muriquita's  character,  and  not  too 
costly  at  any  price.  If  her  daughter,  a  child  of  the  people, 
could  not  aspire  to  a  wealthy  and  noble  husband,  why 
should  she  not  strive  to,  and  have  a  wealthy  and  noble 
lover,  provided  a  generous,  open-hearted,  and  open-handed 


92  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

youth  could  be  attracted  who  would  do  the  right  thing  by 
Mercedes,  or,  more  properly,  by  her  mother?  There  was 
danger  in  this  respect.  The  young  cavaliers  of  Quito  were 
unscrupulous  and  licentious  enough,  but  mostly  too  poor  to 
be  considered  eligible  by  this  worthy  matron.  But  fortu 
nately,  or  unfortunately,  chance  threw  Eoberto  Sanchez 
into  her  way,  who,  to  an  unbounded  generosity,  and  a 
sense  of  loyalty  rare  in  those  days,  united  a  supply  of 
ample  means  with  which  his  rich  and  indulgent  father  pro 
vided  him. 

"  Why  do  you  weep,  Merccditas  ?" 

Mercedes  had  cause  to  weep,  as  her  mother  was  soon  to 
learn.  The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  always  hard.  After 
the  days  of  illicit  bliss  the  days  of  trial  were  to  follow,  and 
Mercedes  had  discovered  that  those  days  were  soon  to 
come.  To  add  gall  to  this  bitter  discovery,  the  visits  of 
her  lover  had  not  been  so  frequent,  of  late,  as  in  the  earlier 
days  of  their  love.  Sighs  and  tears,  such  as  the  girl  had 
been  unable  to  repress  in  his  presence,  are  not  to  the  taste 
of  a  young  cavalier,  however  loyal  his  intentions  may  be. 
"The  dazzling  toy,  so  fiercely  sought, 
Has  lost  its  charm  by  being  caught." 

The  story  is  so  well  known  that  it  does  not  bear  repeti 
tion.  Dona  Mariquita  had,  therefore,  every  reason  to  ask  : 
"  Why  do  you  weep,  Merceditas?" 

Ask  a  woman  why  she  cries,  and  you  will  open  the  flood 
gate  of  her  tears.  Mercedes  threw  herself  into  her  mother's 
arms  and  continued  to  weep. 

"  This  is  quite  a  touching  sight,"  said  a  coarse  and 
sneering  voice,  which  filled  both  mother  and  daughter  with 
sudden  fear.  It  was  the  voice  of  Juan  Castro  who  had  en 
tered  the  room  unobserved,  and  stood  in  the  door,  his  faco 
flushed  with  rum  and  excitement. 

"And  to  what  are  we  indebted  to  the  rare  and  extraor 
dinary  pleasure  of  seeing  the  Sefior  Don  Juan?"  asked  the 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  93 

Dona  Mariquita,  who,  although  greatly  vexed  and  alarmed 
by  his  visit,  had  not  lost  her  presence  of  mind. 

"Ask  your  sniveling  daughter,  there!  Ask  the  neigh 
bors  !  Ask  the  whole  town,  and  you  will  know,  if  you  do 
not  know  already,  why  a  visit  of  the  son  and  brother  has 
become  necessary." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  his  mother,  without 
looking  at  him.  "It  is  so  uncommon  for  Juan  Castro  to 
remember  that  he  has  a  mother  and  a  sister." 

"  I  can  not  say.  that  I  enjoy  the  remembrance.  The  con 
duct  of  that  young  lady  has  not  been  calculated  to  develop 
brotherly  pride  and  affection.  It  would  have  been  better 
for  me  not  to  have  had  a  sister." 

"And  why,  pray?" 

"Al  demonio  with  your  questions!"  he  replied  with  an 
oath.  "As  if  you  did  not  know  what  I  mean  !  I  am  not 
easily  flattered  by  your  high  connections.  Do  you  two 
women  think  that  it  is  very  pleasant  for  me  to  have  our 
name  and  family  disgraced  by  Roberto  Sanchez?" 

"  If  the  honor  of  any  name  and  family  were  intrusted 
to  your  keeping,  Juan,  I  should  pity  the  family,"  answered 
Dona  Mariquita,  while  Mercedes  continued  to  cling  to  her 
mother  tremblingly,  and  in  silence. 

"  For  how  much  have  you  sold  that  girl?" 

"  If  I  had  to  sell  her,  Juan,  in  order  to  keep  ourselves 
from  starvation,  you  would  be  the  last  person  in  the  world 
who  has  a  right  to  complain.  What  have  you  done  for  your 
family?  What  have  you  ever  contributed  to  the  support 
of  your  mother  and  sister  ?  How  have  you  repaid  me  for 
bringing  you  up  and  establishing  you  in  business  ?  " 

"Nonsense,  Mother!  Devilish  little  have  I  received 
from  you  of  my  father's  estate." 

"  Your  father  had  no  property,  and  you  know  it.  What 
I  had  was  my  own,  and  not  your  father's." 

"I  have  not  come  to  quarrel  with  you.     I  have  come  to 


94  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

tell  you  that  the  disgraceful  visits  of  Sanchez  must  stop. 
These  visits  must  stop,  do  you  understand  me." 

"  But  if  they  should  not  stop  ?  " 

u  Then  I  must  infer  that  it  is  very  profitable  for  you  to 
let  them  goon.  And  if  I  am  to  share  the  shame,  Mother, 
I  must  share  the  profits,  too.  Have  I  expressed  myself 
with  sufficient  clearness  ?  " 

"And  if  I  tell  you  never  to  set  your  foot  in  this  house 
again  ?" 

"You  will  not  tell  me  anything  of  the  kind,  Mother. 
You  know  i  am  not  to  be  trifled  with.  You  know  I  um  to 
be  feared." 

"  Will  you  murder  us,  as  you  attempted  to  murder  the 
old  Chichera,  Dona  Catita?" 

"  She  has  found  to  her  expense  that  I  am  not  to  be  con 
tradicted  or  counteracted  by  anybody.  You  will  either 
put  a  stop  to  the  visits  of  Sanchez,  or  you  will  let  me  share 
in  the  proceeds.  And,  by  the  way,  I  am  in  difficulty  just 
now.  One  or  two  ducats  would  help  me  out." 

"  I  have  no  money  in  the  house,"  said  Doila  Mariquita, 
turning  pale. 

"We  shall  see,  about  that,"  rejoined  Castro,  swaggering 
up  to  the  bureau. 

"  Stand  back  !  "  commanded  his  mother,  throwing  her 
self  in  his  way. 

"Give  way!"  he  shouted,  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  "and 
do  not  provoke  me.  I  know  now  that  you  have  money 
in  the  house." 

A  scuffle  began.  The  woman  was  determined,  and  so 
was  her  son.  With  a  loud  scream,  Mercedes  threw  herself 
between  them  to -protect  her  mother,  but  he  flung  her  back 
with  such  force  that  she  fell  to  the. floor,  upsetting  her  harp 
which  fell  with  a  moaning  sound.  In  the  next  moment 
Castro  would  have  overpowered  his  mother,  if  a  new  party 
had  not  appeared  on  the  scene.  JRoberto  Sanchez,  with 


BOOK    II.      REALITIES.  95 

drawn  sword,  and  the  fire  of  indignation  in  his  eye,  now 
faced  the  ruffian. 

*'  Stand  back,  you  blackguard,  and  if  you  ever  dare  to 
come  here  again,  I  shall  cut  you  to  pieces" — 

Castro  was  not  afraid  of  any  man.  But  Eoberto  Sanchez 
was  armed,  and  Castro  was  unarmed.  Eoberto  was  a 
nobleman  of  high  standing,  and  the  strong  arm  of  the  law 
would  have  been  on  his  side.  Discretion,  therefore,  became 
the  better  part  of  valor. 

"  I  see,  it  is  your  time  now,  Senor  Don  .Roberto,"  he  said, 
slowly  reti*eating.  "You  claim  rights  by  purchase  here, 
which  it  may  be  too  late  for  me  to  dispute.  But  we  shall 
meet  under  more  favorable  circumstances." 

"  Your  threats  are  ridiculous,  Juan  Castro,"  said  Sanchez. 
"  If  it  is  money  you  want,  you  should  act  differently.  And 
as  for  your  courage,  there  are  better  opportunities  to  prove 
it  than  by  abusing  two  defenseless  women,  whom  you 
should  consider  it  your  duty  to  protect.  Listen,  man  !  I 
have  something  to  tell  you  which  you  will  like  to  hear. 
You  claim'  to  be  a  son  of  Quito.  Well,  then,  Quito  has 
good  use  for  you  now.  The  Procurator-General,  Don  Alonzo 
Bellido,  has  been  arrested  to-day  by  order  of  the  Eoyal 
Audience,  for  advising  the  people  to  resist  the  collection 
of  the  Alcabala.  He  must  be  set  free  to-night.  Do  you 
understand  ?  We  shall  all  go  to  the  Palace,  and  force  the 
President,  if  necessary,  to  issue  an  order  for  Bellido's  re 
lease.  I  know,  your  influence  among  the  commoners  is  great, 
and  the  Cabildo  relies  on  your  zeal.  Get  your  men  in 
readiness  for  to-night,  and  as  you  will  need  money,  here  it 
is.  You  shall  have  money  enough,  but  do  not  act  the  brute 
to  your  helpless  mother  and  sister." 

Juan  Castro  hated  Eoberto  Sanchez,  and  did  not  intend 
to  be  deprived  of  his  revenge.  But  money  and  the  prospect 
of  a  riot  tempted  him  beyond  his  power  of  resist 
ance.  Worse  than  all,  he  hated  the  native  Spaniards, 
and  a  demonstration  against  the  foreign  authorities 


96  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

was  one  of  his  favorite  pastimes.  What  course  he 
should  hereafter  pursue  as  to  Sanchez  might  be  made 
a  subject  of  future  deliberation.  All  appearances  in 
dicated  that  for  the  rescue  of  his  sister,  he  had  come  too 
late.  But  Sanchez  had  given  him  money,  and  more  money 
might  be  drawn  from  the  same  source.  To  bleed  him  in 
his  purse  might,  after  all,  be  wiser  policy  than  to  run  the 
great  risk  of  attempting  his  life.  At  all  events,  Castro  de 
termined  to  consider.  For  the  moment  he  was  satisfied, 
and  so  he  said  cheerfully :  "  Many  thanks  to  your  Grace. 
I  shall  show  myself  worthy  of  the  confidence  of  the  Cabildo. 
In  the  meantime,  I  beg  your  Excellency's  pardon  for  my 
rudeness.  I  see  it  was  all  a  mistake  on  my  part.  Your 
Grace  shall  hear  from  me  to-night.  Death  to  the  Audience 
and  Yiva  el  Sefior  Alonzo  Bellido  !  " 

With  these  words  he  hurried  away  without  deigning  to 
look  at  his  mother  or  sister,  who  felt  that  although  the 
danger  had  passed  away  for  the  time  being,  a  dark  cloud 
had  arisen  on  the  horizon,  which  might  still  be  fraught 
with  destruction. 

That  same  night  the  first  blow  was  struck  by  the  Com 
mune  of  Quito.  The  first  overt  act  of  rebellion  was  com 
mitted.  An  immense  multitude  appeared  before  the  Gov 
ernment  Palace,  headed  by  gentlemen  in  masks,  and  by 
men  of  the  Castro  stamp,  with  open  visor.  The  President 
of  the  Royal  Audience,  Don  Manuel  Barros  de  San  Millan, 
was  completely  taken  by  surprise.  No  outbreak  had  been 
apprehended  so  soon,  and  consequently  no  precautions  had 
been  taken.  The  mob  demanded  the  immediate  release  of 
Don  Alonzo  Bellido,  and  the  terrified  Auditors  assented 
without  hesitation.  The  cowardly  President  even  went  so 
far  as  to  assure  the  people  that  a  mistake  had  been  made 
by  some  one;  that  his  authority  had  been  exceeded,  and 
that  it  had  not  been  his  intention  to  arrest  the  Procurator- 
General.  Bellido  was  borne  home  on  the  shoulders  of  men. 
From  the  balcony  of  his  house  he*  addressed  the  people. 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  97 

He  thanked  them  for  their  sympathy  and  kindness,  and 
assured  them  of  his  unswerving  devotion  to  their  rights. 
He  entreated  them  to  go  home  peaceably,  and  to  commit 
no  excesses,  so  as  not  to  disgrace  their  just  cause.  He 
vowed  that  while  he  was  Procurator-General  their  rights 
should  be  protected.  At  the  same  time  he  expressed  loy 
alty  to  the  King,  who  must  have  been  misinformed,  and 
hud  evidently  acted  under  the  advice  of  evil  counselors, 
with  whom  the  responsibility  rested.  Still,  while  trusting 
to  the  justice  of  His  Majesty,  it  behooved  them,  like  prudent 
men,  to  be  on  their  guard  against  the  continued  influence 
of  His  Majesty's  evil  advisers.  The  people  of  Quito  had 
taken  a  lawful,  but  a  bold  step,  and  it  would  be  necessary 
to  prepare  for  the  consequences.  The  rights  of  the  Muni 
cipality  must  be  maintained,  but  he  doubted  if  it  could  be 
done  without  a  struggle.  He  hoped  to  God  that  struggle 
might  be  averted;  but,  if  it  became  inevitable,  he,  for  one, 
was  ready  to  go  to  the  bitter  end,  and  to  sacrifice  his  life, 
if  necessary,  in  the  cause  of  law  and  justice,  without  which 
life  itself  would  be  unbearable. 

His  speech  electrified  the  people,  and  was  received  with 
thunders  of  applause.  The  hour  had  come  and  had  fur 
nished  the  man.  The  .Revolution  had  found  a  head  to 
direct  it.  And  a  clear,  cool,  far-seeing,  and  determined 
head  was  that  of  the  ill-fated  Alonzo  Bellido. 


98  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

CARMEN    DUCHICELA THE    OLD    FAITH    AND    THE    NEW. 

We  must  go  back  to  the  evening  preceding  the  scene 
at  the  church,  described  in  another  chapter.  A  large 
house  in  the  Plaza  of  San  Francisco,  owned  by  the  Con 
vent,  patronized  by  the  liberality  of  Carmen  Duchicela, 
had  been  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  Indian  Princess, 
for  the  time  of  her  stay  in  Quito.  All  the  nobility, 
ladies,  and  gentlemen,  and  nearly  the  whole  clerg}*  of 
the  place,  had  called  on  her  shortly  after  her  arrival, 
and  visitors  were  continually  offering  their  services  to 
her,  in  the  usual  Spanish  style.  She  was  overwhelmed 
with  attentions  and  besieged  with  invitations,  most  of 

O  * 

which  she  declined.  The  Spanish  colonists  looked  with 
contempt  on  the  common  herd  of  Indians ;  but  Dona 
Carmen  was  the  representative  of  Royalty ;  and  Royalty, 
even  conquered  Royalty,  never  loses  its  charm  in  the  eyes 
of  poor  humanity. 

In  Peru  intermarriages  between  the  conquerors  and  the 
Indian  Princesses  had  been  .frequent.  The  celebrated  his 
torian,  Garcilazo  de  la  Vega,  was  the  issue  of  such  a  mar 
riage.  In  Quito  such  unions  could  not  take  place,  because 
Rumiiiagui,  the  usurper,  had  killed  off  the  Princesses  that 
had  been  left  behind  when  Atahualpa  went  south,  and  had 
even  carried  off  or  murdered  the  Virgins  of  the  Sun,  who 
always  were  of  the  best  blood  of  the  land.  The  visit  of 
Dofia  Carmen,  therefore,  created  great  excitement  at  Quito, 
because  she  and  her  son  were  the  last  known  representa 
tives  of  the  royal  blood  of  the  Shyris.  Her  son,  however, 
had  not  come  with  her  to  Quito,  as  the  management  of  the 


BOOK    II.      REALITIES.  99 

family  estates,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  required  his 
presence  at  home. 

The  hour  of  the  night-bell  (toque  de  la  quedn~)  was  fast 
approaching.  All  her  white  visitors  had  left.  Dona  Car 
men  felt  somewhat  fatigued  with  their  attentions.  Don 
Sebastian  Collahuaso,  the  Cacique  of  Ibarra,  had  remained 
with  her,  and  was  now  joined  by  the  old  Indian  whom  we 
noticed  at  the  church.  He  entered  the  room  after  the  last 
white  face  had  disappeared.  An  Indian  servant  girl  stood 
in  the  door  awaiting  the  orders  of  her  mistress. 

"How  I  hate  them,"  whispered  the  old  man  to  Don  Se 
bastian  Collahuaso,  as  they  both  respectfully  took  up  their 
positions  near  Dofia  Carmen's  chair." 

"Peace  be  with  you,  Prince  Cundurazu  ;  we  must  wait 
and  bear.  Our  Lady  seems  to  be  fatigued." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Don  Sebastian,  I  feel  tired  and  exhausted. 
These  people  are  all  very  kind  to  me,  but  it  is  very  tire 
some  to  receive  so  many.  Such  a  constant  stream  of  visit 
ors  interferes  with  my  devotions.  At  my  age,  on  the  verge 
of  eternity,  the  vanities  of  this  world  lose  their  charm, 
however  highly  I  may  have  prized  them  once.  I  am 
very  much  beholden  to  you  for  your  assistance,  Don  Se 
bastian.  You  must  be  fatigued  likewise.  I  shall  keep 
you  no  longer." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Doiia  Carmen,  that  I  must  trouble  you  for 
a  few  minutes  longer.  But  I  must  speak  to  you  on  a  very 
important  subject." 

"  Is  it  of  such  importance  that  it  can  not  be  postponed 
until  tomorrow?" 

'•'It  is,  Lady  Carmen.  Now  we  are  alone  in  the  house — 
I  mean  nobody  is  with  or  around  us,  but  the  children  of 
our  own  race." 

"Don  Sebastian,  if  you  had  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
new  faith,  you  would  know  that  there  is  in  reality  but  one 
ijace,  which  is  the  human  race,  and  that  we  are,  all  of  us, 


100  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

children  of  our  heavenly  Father,  and  consequently  Brothers 
and  Sisters." 

"A  pretty  way  of  treating  their  Brothers  and  Sisters  they 
have,  those  foreign  children  of  your  heavenly  Father," 
sneered  Cnnduruzu. 

"Hush,  old  friend.  You  and  I  shall  never  agree  on  this 
subject.  Let  us  hear  what  communication  Don  Sebastian 
has  to  make'/' 

"  Knowing  your  views,  I  might  have  kept  it  from  you, 
Lady  Carmen.  But  good  faith  requires  that  you  shall  know 
what  we  intend  to  do.  You  will  not  be  compromised  by  it 
in  any  way.  And  as  you  may,  perhaps,  desire  to  see  your 
nearest  female  relative — " 

"  For  God's  sake,  Don  Sebastian,  do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  " 

"  That  the  Sefiora  Toa  is  in  the  city?  Yes,  Dona  Car 
men,  I  do." 

The  old  lady  turned  pale,  and  looked  very  uneasy.  After 
a  pause,  she  said  :  "  And  why  have  you  brought  her  here, 
into  this  hot-bed  of  danger?" 

"  She  is  perfectly  safe  here,  Dona  Carmen  ;  safer,  prob 
ably,  than  in  the  remotest  hamlet  of  the  country." 

"  And  you,  Prince  Cundurazu,  1  have  no  doubt,  are 
planning  and  plotting  with  her,  dreaming  of  impossibilities 
and  struggling  against  the  inevitable." 

"Coya,"*  said  the  old  man,  "The  Senora  Toa  is  my 
Queen  " — 

"  Whose  life  you  have  made  wretched  and  miserable, 
making  her  a  fugitive  and  a  wanderer,  while  she  might 
have  lived  in  happiness  and  peace.  For  the  sake  of  a 
worthless  bubble — for  a  mere  phantom — the  perpetuation 
of  Sbyri  .Royalty,  which  must  end,  even  in  this  form,  as  it 
has  ended  in  substance,  you  have  sacrificed  that  unfortu 
nate  girl.  Why  did  you  not  leave  her  with  me,  where  she 
was  unknown  and  safe  ?  The  special  privileges  conferred 

*  Royal  Princess. 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  101 

upon  my  father  by  the  King  of  Spain  have  descended  to 
me,  and  will  descend  to  my  son.  1  might  have  protected 
her,  even  if  her  origin  had  been  revealed,  especially  H'you 
had  let  me  carry  out  my  wish  of  marrying  her  to  my  son. 
But,  no;  you  have  filled  her  mind  with  hallucinations  and 
illusions,  and  have  unfitted  her  for  a  quiet,  useful,  matronly 
life,  and  doomed  her  to  hide  in  caves,  in  ravines,  and  in 
the  wilderness,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  spirit  of  discontent 
and  false  hope  among  the  children  of  our  race.  The  only 
consolation  they  might  have — the  consolation  of  true  re 
ligion — you  take  from  them,  by  secretly  keeping  up  heath 
enism  among  them,  and  you  have  nothing  to  give  them  in 
return,  nothing,  nothing;  for  what  can  your  plots  ever 
lead  to  ?  What  could  our  Indians  ever  accomplish  against 
the  power  of  Spain  ?  If  they  could  not  crush  the  in 
vaders  when  we  were  the  millions  and  they  the  few 
hundreds,  how  can  you  expect  to  shake  off  the  yoke  when 
the  hundreds  have  multiplied  into  the  hundred  thousands? 
You  afflict  me,  my  friends,  by  your  vain  struggles  and  vis 
ionary  hopes.  And  where  is  that  poor,  dear  girl  now?" 

"  She  is  here,  in  the  house,  Doiia  Carmen,  waiting  to  em 
brace  her  kinswoman." 

"  Here,  in  the  house!  God  bless  her.  Why  did  you  not 
tell  me  before  ?  Where  is  she?" 

"  Here,  Auntie  dear,"  said  Toa,  who  had  listened  to  most 
of  this  conversation,  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  now,  with 
outstretched  arms,  flew  to  the  old  lady.  But  the  latter  had 
already  slipped  from  her  chair.  Stronger  than  the  new 
faith,  stronger  than  her  religious  convictions,  stronger  than 
her  loyalty  to  the  authority  of  the  conquerors  who  had 
dealt  so  generously  with  her  house,  was  the  power  of  blood 
and  ancient  custom.  Carmen  Duchicela,  the  loyal  subject 
of  the  King  of  Spain,  and  the  favorite  of  his  Church,  in 
stead  of  receiving  the  homage  of  her  young  relative,  upon 
whom  she  had  lavished  her  charities,  instantly  forgot  the 
present,  and  at  once  flew  back  to  the  past,  and  throwing 


102  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

herself  in  the  dust  before  the  Lady  Toa,  clung  to  the 
feet  of  the  granddaughter  of  Atahualpa,  the  legitimate  re 
presentative  of  Indian  sovereignty. 

"Kise,  Auntie,  dear,"  said  Toa;  "nay,  Mother,  I  should 
say — for  you  have  proved  a  mother,  a  guardian  angel,  a 
benefactress  to  me,  your  wayward,  disobedient  child." 
With  these  words  she  lifted  her  up  and  silently  held  her 
in  her  arms.  The  two  women  were  locked  in  each  other's 
embrace,  and  a  long  pause  followed,  during  which  only 
sobs  were  audible.  The  two  strong  men,  hardened  in  the 
school  of  adversity,  had  melted  like  children,  and  Prince 
Cundurazu  especially  could  not  stem  the  flood  of  his  tears. 
But  soon  the  silence  was  broken.  The  members  of  Dofla 
Carmen's  Indian  suite  and  her  numerous  retinue  of  ser 
vants  crowded  into  the  room,  and  prostrating  themselves 
before  the  Lady  Toa,  kissed  the  hem  of  her  hunible  gar 
ment,  or,  true  to  the  old  Indian  custom,  seized  her  foot  and 
put  it  on  their  necks  or  shoulders. 

"I  thank  you,  children,"  said  Toa,  vainly  endeavoring 
to  repress  her  tears,  "  with  all  my  heart  I  thank  you  for 
your  love,  your  loyalty,  your  devotion.  But  leave  us  now. 
I  have  not  seen  the  Senora  Carmen  for  years,  and  1  have 
much  to  say  to  her.  Leave  us  now,  children.  I  shall  see 
you  again,  and  shall  speak  to  each  one  of  you.  The 
Great  Sun  will  protect  you,  and  his  sister,  the  Moon,  will 
smile  upon  you,  and  Pachacamac  will  once  more  favor  the 
cause  of  our  race." 

"You  must  not  speak  to  them  thus,  Lady  Toa,"  said 
Doila  Carmen,  regaining  her  composure,  and  with  an  ex 
pression  of  reproachful  sadness.  "  The  gods  you  name 
were  false  gods,  and  we  are  Christians.  The  Sun  and  the 
Moon  are  but  the  works  of  the  true  God.  "Where  was  the 
power  of  Pachacamac  and  the  Sun  and  the  Moon,  when 
the  true  God  came  into  this  land  ?  They  were  like  chaff 
and  withered  leaves  before  the  hurricane.  Go,  now,  my 
children ;  I  want  to  speak  to  the  Shyri  Toa." 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  103 

Reluctantly  the  Indians  obeyed  this  command,  leaving 
the  two  ladies  alone  with  Don  Sebastian.  Collahuaso  and 
Prince  Cundurazu. 

"  And  now,  children,"  said  Dona  Carmen,  "  what  do  you 
intend  to  do?" 

"  The  Shyri  Toa,"  said  Cundurazu,  "  must  show  herself 
to  her  people.  Our  people  believe  in  her  existence,  but 
this  belief  would  soon  die  out  without  the  evidence  of  their 
own  senses.  They  must  see  her,  and  they  shall  see  her  in 
the  church  to-morrow,  in  order  to  be  confirmed  in  their 
loyalty." 

"And  what  is  your  object,  my  friend,  in  preserving  a 
loyalty,  which,  while  it  is  useless  to  my  darling  Toa,  can 
only  help  to  make  our  race  miserable  by  increasing  its  dis 
content  with  its  present  condition?" 

"Doiia  Carmen,"  replied  Cundurazu,  '•  we  have  great 
plans" — 

"  The  old,  old  story  !" 

"  But  listen  !  It  is  not  the  old  story.  No  longer  do  we 
hope  for  deliverance  through  our  own  unaided  exertions. 
I  am  i-eady  to  admit  to  you  now  that  this  would  be  in  vain. 
But  there  will  be  an  outbreak  here  against  the  authority 
of  the  King  of  Spain.  The  children  of  our  conquerors 
have  become  as  dissatisfied  with  their  foreign  tyrants  as 
we  are.  If  they  will  give  us  our  rights,  we  shall  aid  their 
rebellion  and  make  it  successful.  We  have  millions  of  men 
and  our  great  treasure.  All  the  resources  of  war  are  at 
our  command.  This  country  can  shake  off  the  yoke  of 
Spain.  It  can  be  made  an  independent  kingdom  under  a 
sovereign  of  its  own,  assisted  perhaps  by  one  or  more  of 
the  powers  that  are  now  at  war  with  Spain.  I  grant  our 
new  King  must  belong  to  the  detested  race  of  the  conquer 
ors.  But  he  shall  marry  the  Shyri  Toa,  and  she  shall  con 
fer  upon  him  her  rights  as  the  successor  of  Cacha  and  At- 
ahualpa.  She  shall  be  a  real  Queen,  arid  will  be  able  to 
protect  her  race." 


104  THE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

"  And  who  is  the  husband  you  have  selected  for  her,  you 
restless,  indefatigable,  incorrigible  schemer?"  inquired  the 
SeSora  Carmen. 

"Wo  have  not  settled  yet  upon  any  particular  individ 
ual  ;  it  is  only  the  general  outline  of  the  plan  on  which  we 
have  agreed.  We  shall  have  to  leave  a  great  deal  to  the 
decisive  power  of  the  events  before  us." 

"And  you,  my  child,"  asked  Dona  Carmen,  "  do  you  ap 
prove  of  all  these  visionary  schemes?" 

"My  dearest  Aunt,  I  have  devoted  my  life  to  the  cause 
of  my  race.  The  plan  of  Prince  Cundurazu  may  succeed, 
and  it  is  my  duty  to  try  it,  trusting  to  the  guidance  of 
our  friends  here  and  to  the  mercy  of  the  Gods.  If  this 
plan  fails  I  have  another." 

\"  My  poor  child,"  said  Doiia  Carmen,  "  do  not  sacrifice 
yourself  and  the  lives  of  others  to  such  fruitless  begin 
ning.  I  see  no  hope  but  in  submission  and  in  the  grace  of 
God.  These  schemes  can  not  succeed.  How  can  this  poor 
country  shake  off  the  yoke  of  the  greatest  power  in  the 
world?  And  what  good  would  your  success  do  to  our 
race?  The  Crown  of  Spain  has  always  been  the  friend  of 
the  Indian.  Numberless  laws  were  passed  for  our  protec 
tion.  Who  has  disregarded  them?  AVbo  has  prevented 
their  execution,  or  perverted  them  into  instruments  of  ad 
ditional  oppression?  The  Colonists — the  very  men  with 
whom  you  propose  to  cooperate.  Have  you  forgotten  the 
rebellion  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro?  What  was  its  cause?  Why 
did  Peru  then  arise  against  Spain  ?  Because  the  Govern 
ment  wanted  the  Indians  to  be  free,  and  to  be  protected 
like  liuman  beings.  Against  this  intention  the  Col 
onists  rebelled,  and  the  Government  yielded  in  order  to 
crush  the  rebellion.  What  little  protection  we  enjoy  lies 
in  the  Government  of  Spain  and  in  the  Council  of  the  In 
dies.  Let  these  Colonies  shake  off  the  Spanish  yoke,  and 
the  Indian  will  lose  his  last  and  only  friend.  It  is  true, 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  105 

the  Spanish  officers  who  are  sent  here  disregard  the 
benevolent  laws  and  intentions  of  the  Home  Govern 
ment.  But  it  only  shows  how  much  worse  we  should 
be  off  if  that  last  restraint  were  removed.  No,  child, 
you  will  never  succeed,  and  if  this  country  should  gain 
its  independence,  it  would  be  the  deadliest  blow  to  our 
people." 

"Not  under  a  King  of  our  own  making,"  said  Cundur- 
azu,  "  with  Toa  as  his  Queen." 

"You  are  a  visionary,  Prince  Cundurazu,"  continued 
the  old  lady,  "and  you  are  leading  this  child  to  destruc 
tion.  Toa!  Dear  Toa!  Flesh  of  my  own  flesh — my 
child,  my  darling  child  !  Be  warned  by  one  who  has  been 
a  mother  to  you !  "Abandon  this  life  of  adventure,  of  rest 
lessness,  of  danger,  and  of  utter  hopelessness.  Come  to 
me  again.  You  know  my  son.  He  is  good,  kind-hearted, 
and  true.  He  will  be  a  loving  husband  to  you  and  an  af 
fectionate  father  to  your  children.  He  will  give  you  the 
blessings  of  a  home ;  he  will  cherish  and  protect  you,  and 
your  life  will  be  passed  in  usefulness  and  happiness.  Re 
nounce  your  empty  title;  it  is  a  heritage  of  defeat  and 
death.  The  glory  of  our  royal  house  has  passed  away 
forever,  and  will  never  be  restored.  I  am  old,  and  my 
davs  on  earth  are  numbered.  I  remember  the  past,  and 
can  judge  of  what  the  future  will  be.  By  the  sacred 
memory  of  our  fathers,  by  the  living  God,  in  whom  I  be 
lieve,  and  who  has  proved  stronger  than  the  Sun  or  the 
Moon  and  Pachacamac,  by  everything  that  I  hold  dear  on 
earth  and  in  heaven,  I  implore  you  to  return  to  me,  and 
to  exchange  peace,  comfort,  and  happiness  for  restlessness, 
misery,  suffering,  and  death.  Our  race  is  an  inferior  race, 
which  has  had  its  days  of  power;  but  those  days  are  gone, 
and  will  never — can  never — return.  We  are  suffering  for 
the  idolatry  and  the  errors  of  our  Fathers,  and  nothing  re 
mains  for  us  but  patience  and  hope,  and  a  firm  trust  in 


106  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

Him  who  died  on  the  cross  for  the  meek,  the  down-trod 
den,  and  the  lowly,  who  will  be  with  Him  in  Paradise." 

Toa  was  deeply  moved.  She  loved  her  Aunt  and  longed 
for  the  happiness  her  self-imposed  martyrdom  had  thus  far 
denied  her.  But  visions  of  another  love,  and  dreams  of 
greatness  and  glory,  and  the  noble  ambition  of  liberating  her 
race  steeled  her  determination.  She  bent  over  Dona  Car 
men,  kissed  her  fondly  and  tenderly,  and  then  said,  with  a 
voice  trembling  with  emotion  :  "  Aunt,  Mother,  benefactress ! 
How  dear,  how  good,  how  noble  you  are !  For  all  your 
love,  J  thank  you  !  I  can  never  repay  it.  It  grieves  me 
to  the  heart  that  I  can  not  obey  you.  If  I  feel  remorse  for 
what  I  consider  the  performance  of  an  imperative  duty, 
this  remorse  lies  in  my  love  for  you.  The  thought  of 
grieving  you  is  almost  unbearable,  and  yet,  Dona  Carmen, 
I  can  not  do  otherwise.  The  heavenly  powers  made  me 
the  rightful  Queen  of  our  people.  Shall  I  abandon  them 
for  my  own  comfort  and  happiness?  Shall  I  settle  down 
quietly  and  selfishly,  and  think  of  myself  only,  while  my 
people  are  crushed  by  the  most  revolting  and  heartless 
tyranny?  The  foreigners  are  making  them  beasts  of 
burden.  They  kill  them  by  thousands  in  the  factories 
and  mines.  They  are  grinding  them  into  dust.  They 
whip  them  like  dogs.  They  hunt  them  down  like  wild 
beasts.  They  tear  the  wife  from  the  husband.  They 
snatch  the  child  from  the  arms  of  the  mother.  They  doom 
our  people  to  disease  and  starvation.  They  kill  them  for 
pastime.  And  I,  the  rightful  Queen  of  these  unfortunates, 
should  quietly  turn  my  eyes  away  from  their  sufferings  and 
abandon  them  to  their  fate?  No,  Dona  Carmen!  While 
there  is  hope,  be  it  ever  so  remote  and  so  faint,  I  shall 
work  and  plot  and  struggle,  as  long  as  the  Gods  give  me 
strength.  And  if  all  hopes  fade,  and  our  enterprise  fails 
on  this  side  of  the  Cordillera,  I  shall  have  my  revenge  on 
the  other.  Yonder,  along  the  headwaters  of  the  mighty 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  107 

Marauon,  the  dominion  of  the  foreign  invaders  rests  on  an 
insecure  and  trembling  foundation.  I  can  not  cope  with 
them  in  the 'plains  and  on  the  table-lands,  but  there  in  the 
tropical  forest,  where  wild  Nature  will  come  to  my  aid 
I  shall  destroy  them;  I  shall  crush  them  as  they  have 
crushed  my  people  here.  Not  a  vestige  shall  be  left  of 
their  towns.  Not  a  white  face  shall  be  left  to  tell  the  tale 
of  horror.  I  know  a  mighty  chief,  Quirruba,  the  King  of 
the  Jivaros.  He  loves  me  and  wants  me  for  his  Queen.  I 
can  fire  his  heart  to  deeds  of  daring  and  revenge.  I  can 
unite,  through  him,  the  Jivaros,  the  Zaparos,  the  Napos, 
the  Macas,  the  Hambayos,  and  other  tribes,  in  a  great  con 
federation,  arid  with  one  blow  I  shall  wipe  out  the  Spanish 
dominion  in  the  country  of  the  great  rivers  and  the  great 
forests  "- 

"  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  thy  soul !"  interrupted 
Carmen.  "  I  shall  hear  no  more.  Peace !  Peace !  Be 
silent,  for  the  Virgin's  sake.  I  can  not,  I  must  not  listen 
to  this  any  longer.  Toa,  my  unfortunate  child,  1  can  only 
pray  for  you.  May  God  enlighten  you  and  show  you  the 
dreadful  error  of  your  ways.  If  my  incessant  prayers  and 
burning  tears  can  move  Him,  He  will  have  mercy  on  you 
and  turn  you  away  from  this  horrid  path.  Toa,  my  child, 
I  am  sick  in  body  and  mind.  I  can  not  listen  to  this  any 
longer."  And  with  these  words  the  old  lady  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands. 

"  Forgive  me,  dearest  Mother,"  said  Toa,  tenderly. 
u  Forgive  your  unfortunate  child.  My  heart  beats  and 
bleeds  for  you ;  but  I  can  not  abandon  my  race.  Our 
ways,  Mother  Carmen,  have  deviated,  and  we  must  part. 
If,  after  you  leave  Quito,  we  should  never  meet  again,  my 
tenderest  thoughts  will  ever  be  with  you.  But,  Dona  Car 
men,  I  can  not,  I  must  not  act  otherwise.  You  have  been 
brought  up  in  a  different  school.  You  have  not  seen  the 
sufferings  of  our  race.  Your  house  and  your  vassals  have 
enjoyed  exceptional  privileges.  Your  father  was  a  friend 


108  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

to  the  foreigner,  while  my  father  and  grandfather  were  his 
victims.  You  have  adopted  the  faith  of  the  invader,  and 
judge  things  differently.  I  cling  to  the  old  traditions  and 
to  the  old  faith  ;  and  my  people's  sufferings  point  out  to 
me  the  path  of  duty.  Auntie,  dear,  however  our  views 
may  differ,  however  your  religion  may  condemn  my 
doings,  I  know  you  will  never  betray  me." 

Doiia  Carmen  roused  herself  from  her  stupor  and  said 
sternly : 

"  Toa!  In  my  opinion  you  are  violating  the  laws  of  God 
and  man.  My  religion  teaches  me  that  those  who  rule 
over  us,  derive  their  powers  from  God,  and  that  God's  will 
must  be  done.  You  are  a  heathen  and  a  traitor  to  the 
King  of  Spain.  Your  life  is  forfeited.  My  judgment  con 
demns  you,  my  heart  deplores  you.  My  duty  to  my 
Church  and  my  King  would  compel  me  to  abandon  you, 
nay,  to  deliver  you  to  your  judges.  But,  Toa,  though  a 
Christian  and  a  loyal  subject  to  the  King  of  Spain,  my 
benefactor,  I  am  a  scion  of  the  house  of  Shyri-Duchicela. 
That  house  may  have  had  some  weak  and  a  few  bad  re 
presentatives,  but  no  Shyri-Duchicela  ever  was  a  traitor  to 
his  house,  race,  or  friendship.  I  can  pity  you,  Toa;  I  can 
weep  and  pray  for  you,  but  rest  assured  I  should  forfeit  all 
hope  of  salvation  in  the  next  world,  and  all  happiness  in 
this  life,  rather  than  to  betray  you.  But  now  I  am  ex 
hausted,  my  children.  I  am  worn  and  weary,  and  you 
must  let  me  retire.  In  the  meantime,  Toa,  let  this  house 
be  your  home.  While  I  have  a  roof  over  my  head,  Toa 
Duchicela  shall  never  be  without  shelter.  But  do  not  tell 
me  more  of  your  plotting  and  scheming.  1  could  not  listen 
to  it  again." 

With  these  words  the  old  lady  called  her  maid,  embraced 
and  kissed  Toa  once  more,  and  then,  supported  by  the  ser 
vant,  left  the  room. 

The  Queen  was  now  alone  with  her  Ministers,  and  a  long 
and  anxious  discussion  followed,  during  which  Toa  was 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  109 

informed  as  to  the  state  of  opinion  and  the  disposition 
of  the  leading  men  of  Quito.  She  learned  that  as  to  all 
present  indications,  old  Alonzo  Sanchez  and  Alonzo  Bellido 
would  be  the  natural  leaders  of  the  expected  revolutionary 
movement,  and  that  Bellido,  especially,  was  a  man  of  great 
power  and  daring,  and  would  give  vitality  and  shape  to 
the  rising  of  the  populace.  Don  Sebastian  Collahuaso 
thought  it  highly  desirable  to  communicate  with  either,  if 
not  with  both  of  these  men  at  once. 

The  cock  proclaimed  the  hours  of  approaching  morn, 
when  the  three  conspirators  retired  to  the  rooms  which  had 
been  assigned  to  them  by  Dona  Carmen. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THE  STATECRAFT  OP  MURDER. 

The  day  after  the  scene  at  the  Church  of  San  Francisco, 
Count  Valverde  was  in  attendance  on  Don  Manuel  Barros, 
the  President  of  the  Koyal  Audience,  who  had  requested  the 
pleasure  of  a  visit  from  him,  on  business  of  the  utmost  im 
portance  to  the  service  of  the  King.  On  presenting  him 
self  at  the  Palace,  the  Count  found  that  the  Koyal  Audience 
was  in  session  with  closed  doors,  and  hours  passed  before 
he  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  dull  and  bad  man 
in  whose  weak  hands  the  coming  crisis  should  find  the 
reins  of  government.  His  Excellency  apologized  for  hav 
ing  kept  the  Count  in  waiting,  but  the  delay  was  inevitable. 
It  concerned  the  very  business  upon  which  his  Excellency 
wished  to  confer  with  the  military  commander. 

Did  Count  Valverde  have  in  his  company  of  arquebu- 
siers,  two  men  who  might  be  relied  upon  for  a  secret  ser 
vice  of  the  utmost  delicacy  and  importance  ? 

The  Count  thought  that  almost  all  his  men  could  he  re- 


110  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

lied  upon.  They  all  had  seen  service  in  one  or  the  other 
of  the  many  wars  waged  by  Philip  II.  Yes,  but  it  was  not 
strictly  a  military  service  that  would  be  demanded  of  them. 
The  service  to  be  performed  was  of  such  a  nature  as  to  re 
quire  men  who  were  not  troubled  with  scruples  or  sympa 
thetic  weaknesses,  but  who  were  ready  to  do  anything  the 
King's  interests  demanded.  They  should  be  well  paid  for 
what  they  were  to  do,  provided  they  could  hold  their 
tongues. 

Would  his  Excellency  condescend  to  acquaint  Count  Val- 
verde  with  the  nature  of  the  service  required?  It  would 
aid  him  in  a  proper  selection  of  the  men.  His  Excellency 
would  not  do  so  directly,  but  he  hinted  that  it  was  of  prime 
necessity  that  these  two  men  should  be  unerring  marks 
men.  Count  Valverde  now  understood  the  worthy  head  of 
the  Government.  Not  soldiers,  but  assassins,  were  wanted. 
Somebody  had  been  doomed,  and  Yalverde  was  called  upon 
to  furnish  the  executioners.  The  Count  was  startled,  but 
not  surprised  by  this  intelligence.  The  dagger  and  the 
pistol  of  the  assassin,  as  well  as  the  secret  midnight  visit 
of  the  executioner  in  disguise,  were  integral  parts  of  the 
system  by  which  King  Philip  governed  the  great  empire 
in  which  the  sun  never  set.  And  the  example  of  the  ter 
rible  spider  who  sat  lurking  in  the  Escurial,  in  the  center 
of  his  web,  was  faithfully  imitated  by  his  representatives 
and  instruments  abroad. 

At  any  other  time,  Count  Yalverde  would  have  furnished 
the  men  without  asking  a  question.  But  the  fearful  proph 
ecy  of  Mama  Kucu,  with  the  remembrance  it  had  revived, 
was  still  fresh  in  his  mind;  and  so  he  asked  whether  his 
Excellency  would  assume  all  the  responsibility.  His  Excel 
lency  would.  And  would  his  Excellency  give  the  neces- 
sar}r  orders  to  the  men,  or  would  he,  the  Count,  be  required 
to  do  so?  The  President  took  a  ring  out  of  a  drawer,  broke 
it  asunder  with  a  hammer,  and  handing  one  of  the  halves  to 
the  Count,  explained  that  the  men  might  be  sent  to  the  Pal- 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  Ill 

ace,  with  instructions  faithfully  to  obey  the  orders  to  be 
given  them  by  the  party  that  would  present  the  other  half 
of  the  ring. 

Count  Valverde  was  a  subaltern  officer,  and  the  man  be 
fore  him  was  the  President  of  the  Royal  Audience,  next  in 
dignity  to  the  Viceroy  of  Peru,  and  to  the  President  of  the 
Audience  at  Lima.  And,  hence,  although  Valverde  greatly 
doubted  the  policy  of  the  measure  to  which  the  Govern 
ment  seemed  determined  to  resort,  he  considered  it  his  duty 
to  remain  silent  and  to  obey.  He  bowed  and  prepared  to 
withdraw  ;  but  the  President  detained  him.  It  would  be 
necessary  to  be  prepared  for  every  emergency.  The  other 
night  the  populace  had  assailed  him  in  his  own  Palace,  and 
found  him  unprepared  and  unprotected.  He  was  helpless 
in  the  hands  of  a  lawless  mob,  and  compelled  to  accede  to 
their  outrageous  demands.  This  must  not  occur  again. 
The  royal  authority  must  be  maintained.  Would  Count 
Valverde  be  kind  enough  to  transfer  all  his  men  to  the 
Palace?  A  mere  guard  of  hotior,  such  as  the  President 
had  had  hitherto,  was  powerless  in  case  of  need.  The 
President  had  given  orders  for  the  removal  of  the  bureaus 
that  now  occupied  the  lower  floor  of  the  Palace,  so  as  to  fur 
nish  quarters  for  the  soldiers. 

"And  when  will  these  rooms  be  ready  for  the  reception 
of  my  men  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,"  answered  the  President.  "  Let  your  men 
be  concentrated  in  the  Palace  to-morrow,  as  early  as  you 
can.  The  royal  authority  must  not  be  defied  again." 

With  these  instructions,  the  interview  terminated.  The 
President  seemed  greatly  alarmed.  He  was  evidently 
troubled  by  fears  for  his  personal  safety  much  more  than 
by  his  regard  for  the  royal  authority. 

Count  Valverde  did  not  relish  the  orders  he  had  received. 
He  was  vexed  at  the  idea  of  having  to  exchange  his  com 
fortable  quarters  in  the  barracks,  for  some  unfinished  or 
unfurnished  office-room  in  the  Palace.  Much  less  did  he 


112  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

relish  the  command  to  detail  two  men  for  a  secret  service, 
the  object  of  which  evidently  was  murder.  He  did  not 
know  who  the  victim  was  to  be,  or  whether  more  than  one 
blow  was  to  be  struck  ;  but  would  not  he,  as  the  military 
commander,  be  held  responsible  for  a  deed  committed  by 
soldiers  ?  And  if  such  a  dark  deed  should  lead  to  an  out 
break  of  popular  fury,  would  it  not  direct  itself  against 
him  ?  He  had  but  one  company  of  arquebusiers  against  a 
mob  of  thousands  ;  for  he  was  confident  that  the  native 
militia  would  either  lend  him  no  assistance  or  side  with  the 
mob.  He  took  the  ring  out  of  his  pocket  and  looked  at  it. 
Was  this  mean  piece  of  metal  to  be  the  forerunner  of  death 
and  destruction  ?  He  felt  a  sinister  presentiment  that  his 
own  death  was  in  the  command  which  the  broken  ring  con 
veyed.  The  President  evidently  was  blundering.  Yal- 
verde  had  no  confidence  in  his  Excellency's  capacity. 
Should  he  instruct  his  men  to  report  to  him,  before  carry 
ing  out  the  orders  which  they  were  to  receive  ?  He  might 
exercise  discretionary  powers,  and  prevent  some  act  of  dis 
astrous  folly  or  imprudent  cruelty.  .While  he  was  thus 
pondering,  he  bad  unknowingly  been  made  the  object  of 
sneers  and  insulting  questions.  A  crowd  of  boys  and 
loungers,  belonging  to  the  rabble  of  Quito,  had  collected 
and  followed  him.  Their  courage  grew  as  their  numbers 
increased. 

"  There  goes  the  Chapeton,"*  said  one. 

"  He  is  the  fellow  who  is  to  teach  us  obedience,"  said 
another. 

"  Down  with  the  Spaniards  !"  exclaimed  a  third,  and  the 
cry  was  immediately  taken  up,  "  Down  with  the  Spaniards ! 
Down  with  the  Alcabala  !" 

Count  Valverde  looked  around  indignantly.  "  Stand 
back,  you  hounds,"  he  thundered,  laying  his  hand  on  the 
hilt  of  his  sword,  "  or  I  shall  kill  a  dozen  of  you." 

*  A  nickname  given  by  the  Creoles  to  native  Spaniards. 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  113 

The  rabble  fell  back  in  terror,  but  immediately  rallied 
again,  hurling  a  volley  of  epithets,  and  even  a  few  stones, 
at  the  officer. 

"  They  do  not  deserve  any  pity,"  thought  the  Count, 
exasperated,  as  he  put  the  broken  ring  in  his  pocket. 
"They  are  all  rebels  and  traitors,  and  deserve  to  die,  those 
low-born  dogs,  as  well  as  their  betters  who  lead  them  on." 

Here  a  stone  knocked  off  his  hat,  and  broke  his  plume, 
while  a  shout  of  derision  followed  the  assault.  The  Count 
might  have  fared  badly,  had  he  not  been  near  the  barracks. 
Three  soldiers,  who  were  lounging  at  the  next  corner,  saw 
his  danger,  and  hurried  to  his  rescue,  easily  scattering  the 
mob  with  their  swords. 

Grinding  his  teeth,  and  with  compressed  lips,  the  Count 
entered  the  barracks.  "  The  President  is  right,"  he  thought. 
"  It  is  necessary  to  strike  terror  to  their  cowardly  souls," 
and  turning  to  an  orderly,  he  said  :  "  Tell  Juan  del  Puente 
and  Ildefonso  Coronel  to  come  to  my  room  immediately.  I 
want  to  see  them." 

Twice  more  that  day  the  broken  ring  changed  hands. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE  PROCURATOR-GENERAL. 

Alonzo  Bellido  was  a  man  of  about  forty -five  years  of 
age.  He  was  a  man  of  scholarly  attainments,  but  his  com 
panions,  unlike  Carrera's,  were  not  the  Muses.  History 
and  the  law  were  his  favorites.  He  was  a  great  jurist,  who 
had  carefully  studied  and  pondered  over  the  history  of 
Spain.  His  mind  dwelt  on  her  ancient  liberties  ;  on  the 
rights  of  representation  in  the  Cortes,  and  their  subsequent 
rise  and  decline;  on  the  history  of  provincial  fueros,  the 
privileges  and  immunities  of  municipalities,  and  on  the 


114  THE   SECRET  OP   THE   ANDES. 

brutal  violence  and  reckless  disregard  of  law,  justice,  and 
custom  with  which  Charles  V  and  Philip  II  had  crushed  out 
nearly  all  that  had  survived  of  popular  liberty  and  mu 
nicipal  or  provincial  rights  in  the  mother  country.  Bellido 
was  a  philosophical  thinker  of  great  clearness,  and  a  natural 
lover  of  justice,  whose  whole  being  revolted  against  meas 
ures  which,  like  the  imposition  of  the  Alcabala,  were  palp 
ably  and  flagrantly  wrong. 

That  morning  he  had  introduced  a  resolution,  at  the 
meeting  of  the  Cabildo,  pledging  the  municipality  to  re 
sistance.  The  resolution  was  couched  in  terms  of  respect 
ful  loyalty,  but  it  was  outspoken  and  decided.  It  threw 
the  blame  of  the  measure  on  the  King's  evil  advisers,  who, 
unfortunately,  had  prevailed  in  His  Majesty's  councils  ; 
but  it  declared  that  until  His  Majesty  had  been  fully  ad 
vised  in  the  premises,  the  Alcabala  should  not  be  collected 
in  Quito,  and  that  the  .Royal  Audience  should  at  once  be 
petitioned  to  withdraw  or  suspend  the  proclamation  made 
on  the  previous  day.  This  resolution  was  adopted  unani 
mously,  when  Bellido  coolly  turned  to  his  colleagues,  and 
said  : 

"  Gentlemen  !  Do  your  Lordships  know  that  they  have 
signed  their  death-warrants?  " 

This  question  provoked  a  general  incredulous  smile,  but 
Bellido  proceeded : 

"  Yes,  gentlemen ;  your  death-warrants !  Philip  II  never 
forgives  and  never  relents.  Think  of  Egmont,  of  Home, 
of  Montigny,  of  Orange,  of  Antonio  Perez;  think  of  his 
son,  Don  Carlos.  Think  of  Don  Juan  of  Austria !  He 
who  offends  King  Philip  stakes  his  life,  and  loses  it  if  he 
succumbs.  You  have  now  burned  your  ships.  All  future 
repentance  and  atonement,  all  subsequent  proofs  of  loy 
alty,  will  be  unavailing.  Your  death-warrants  are  signed. 
The  only  question  now  is,  whether  King  Philip  will  have 
power  to  enforce  them." 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  115 

"What  do  you  mean,  Don  Alonzo?"  asked  Sciior  Olmos, 
one  of  the  Councilors. 

"  That  we  have  entered  upon  a  life  and  death-struggle. 
We  are  doomed  if  we  remain  under  Spain.  There  are  but 
two  ways  of  escape  for  us — absolute  independence,  or  a  for 
eign  protectorate,  if  not  both." 

And  now  Alonzo  Bellido  developed  his  plans  into  which 
it  is  not  our  purpose  to  enter  minutely.  Spain  was  at  war 
with  France,  England,  and  the  Netherlands.  The  two 
latter  were  maritime  powers,  whose  cruisers  infested  every 
ocean.  Communications  should  at  once  be  opened  with  the 
governments  of  those  countries.  French  aid  would  prob 
ably  be  the  most  acceptable  to  the  people,  because  England 
and  Holland  were  heretical  powers,  while  Henry  IV  had 
made  his  peace  with  the  Church.  But,  if  French  aid 
could  not  be  procured,  any  other  assistance  would  he  wel 
come.  The  great  smuggling  trade  that  was  carried  on  all 
along  the  colonial  coast  under  the  very  nose  of  the  author 
ities,  would  furnish  means  of  communication,  in  addition 
to  which  deputies  should  at  once  be  sent  abroad  to  impress 
upon  the  enemies  of  Spain  the  great  importance  of  a  diver 
sion  in  their  favor  in  the  very  heart  of  Spanish  power,  in 
a  colony  from  which  so  vast  a  portion  of  the  Spanish  rev 
enues  was  derived.  In  the  meanlime,  Bellido  insisted  the 
native  militia  should  be  reorganized  and  prepared  for  ac 
tive  service.  The  royal  treasures  should  be  seized  every 
where.  The  members  of  the  Audience  should  be  arrested 
and  detained  as  hostages.  A  provisional  government 
should  be  formed  that  should  assume  control  of  all  the  inland 
cities,  and  secure  the  possession,  for  the  Independents,  of 
the  seaports  of  Esmeraldas  and  Guayaquil.  The  success 
of  the  Eevolution  depended  on  the  rapidity  of  its  blows. 
We  must  not  wait  until  the  Viceroy  sends  an  army  to  crush 
us  ;  we  must  carry  the  war  into  Africa,  and  from  Cuenca 
and  Loja  invade  Peru,  where  the  cities  will  receive  us  with 
open  arms.  If  these  views  are  carried  out,  Peru  and  Quito 


116  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

will  be  independent  before  the  news  of  it  reaches  Spain. 
Then,  by  the  time  the  King  sends  an  armament  against  us, 
our  negotiations  with  foreign  powers  will  have  ripened 
into  some  result.  Foreign  powers  will  be  ready  to  help  us 
whenever  we  show  strength  enough  to  help  ourselves." 

Altogether,  Bellido's  plan,  bold  and  dangerous  as  it 
seemed  to  be,  was  that  of  a  great  statesman,  but  it  startled 
and  frightened  the  more  conservative  members  of  the  Ca- 
bildo,  who  still  thought  and  hoped  that  by  petitions  and 
remonstrances,  backed,  if  necessary,  by  a  show  of  forcible 
resistance,  an  accommodation  might  be  effected  with  the 
Court  of  Spain,  or  with  the  Viceroy  at  Lima.  Poor,  de 
luded  creatures !  They  did  not  know  Philip  II  and  the 
tools  he  selected  for  his  service. 

The  discussion  became  excited,  and  at  times  angry  and 
stormy,  and  had  already  lasted  several  hours,  when  one  f)f 
the  office-messengers  approached  Bellido  and  whispered  to 
him,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  speakers:  "  There  is  an 
old  Indian  in  the  ante-room  whom  I  do  not  know,  and  whom 
I  have  never  seen.  He  says'.he  has  a  communication  of 
the  greatest  importance  to  make,  either  to  the  Procurator- 
General,  or  to  Don  Alonzo  Sanchez;  but  he  insists  on 
speaking  to  your  Grace  in  person,  and  alone." 

"  An  old  Indian  !  Eidiculous  !  Didst  thou  not  tell  him  I 
was  engaged  ?" 

"  I  did,  Senor,  but  he  said  that  what  he  had  to  say  to 
your  Grace  referred  to  the  very  subject  now  under  con 
sideration." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  somebody  must  have  sent  him." 

"  Yes,  he  says  he  is  the  bearer  of  a  message." 

"  Well,  1  think  I  will  see  him  for  a  moment.  Take  him 
into  my  office." 

,  Bellido  was  struck  with  the  appearance  of  the  Indian. 
He  looked  as  if  he  had  lived  over  a  century,  and  yet,  hav 
ing  assured  himself  that  he  was  alone  with  Bellido,  he 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  117 

showed  a  quickness  and  intelligence  which  to  the  Procura 
tor  were  surprising  in  one  of  the  despised  race. 

"  I  thank  your  Grace  for  coming,  and  shall  not  detain 
you  long.  I  do  not  come  empty  handed.  To  the  support 
of  the  plan  your  Grace  has  conceived,  I  bring  thousands 
of  men  and  millions  of  treasure." 

Bellido  looked  uneasy.  "Why,  man,  are  you  crazy? 
What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  shall  at  once  give  your  Grace  some  proof  of  what  I 
say.  Your  Grace  has  been  maturing  a  plan  for  the  sepa 
ration  of  this  country  from  Spain  " — 

"Man,  you  are  a  wizard.  How  could  you  have  known 
that,  if  it  were  so?" 

"  Sefior !  Is  there  a  house  without  Indian  servants  in 
this  city?  You  think  these  Indians  are  mere  beasts,  and 
you  speak  before  them  without  reserve.  There  is  nothing 
of  interest  or  importance  that  these  apparently  stolid"  and 
ernbruted  creatures  do  not  hear,  see,  remember,  and  when 
asked  or  instructed,  report  to — well,  let  me  say  to — us. 
Thus  I  know  of  your  plan.  I  have  known  of  it  for  weeks." 

"  But  who  are  you  ?" 

"  Senor,  I  am  a  poor  Indian,  despised  and  trampled 
upon  with  impunity  by  those  of  our  white  conquerors  Avho 
choose  to  do  so.  Why  should  you  wish  to  know  moi'e?  I 
come  not  of  my  own  accord  and  without  authority.  I 
come  as  the  messenger  of  my  sovereign.'' 

By  this  time  Bellido  was  thoroughly  aroused  and  in 
terested.  His  quick  mind  saw  at  a  glance  that  this  visit 
had  a  deep  meaning,  and  that  it  promised  aid,  unexpected 
aid,  from  an  unexpected  quarter.  "  Then,  I  am  to  under 
stand  that  this  legend  of  an  Indian  Qneen,  of  whom  we 
have  heard  so  much  and  seen  nothing,  is  not  a  myth 
but  a  reality." 

"  I  am  authorized  to  say  so  to  your  Grace." 

"And  your  credentials?" 


118  THE    SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

"  Are  in  ray  hand.     Your  Grace  will  please  to  look  at 
this  paper,  but  I  beg  you  to  return  it  to  me." 
Bellido  took  it,  and  read  : 

"  The  bearer  will  speak  for  me  and  in  my  name. 

"  TOA  DUCHICELA, 

"Of  Quito  and  Purruhd" 

"All  this  seems  very  strange,"  said  Bellido,  returning 
the  paper  to  the  Indian.  "But  1  shall  be  glad  to  learn 
what  you  can  do  for  us,  and  what  we  are  required  to  do 
for  you  in  return." 

"  Don  Alonzo  !  I  shall  be  brief.  I  trust  in  your  honor. 
For  the  next  few  minutes  my  head,  my  limbs,  my  life,  will 
be  in  your  power,  but  not  my  secret.  You  may  order  me 
under  arrest,  and  put  me  to  the  rack,  as  has  been  done  to 
so  many  of  my  race,  who  were  suspected  of  knowing  what 
I  have  come  to  tell  you  voluntarily.  I  know  I  invite  this 
danger  by  endeavoring  to  communicate  on  such  matters 
with  a  Viracocha.*  But  because  the  task  is  dangerous,  it 
has  been  confided  to  me.  I  am  a  very  old  man.  My  days 
are  numbered,  and  it  makes  very  little  difference  whether 
a  few  are  added  or  taken  away.  1  am  unknown  here. 
Nobody  in  this  building  ever  saw  me  before.  I  can  hide 
my  tracks.  You  may  break  me  on  the  wheel  but  you  will 
discover  nothing.  I  know  this  charnel-house,  la  casa  de  la 
Municipalidad,  where  hundreds  of  my  unfortunate  race 
were  tortured  to  death  before  your  Grace  came  to  this 
city,  nay,  before  your  Grace  was  born.  I  am  ready  to 
suffer  as  they  suffered;  but  you  would  gain  nothing  by  it, 
Seiior  Procurator-General." 

"I  admit,"  answered  Bellido,  "that  your  experience  jus 
tifies  your  distrust.  But  you  are  mistaken  in  me.  You 
have  come  to  me  in  confidence,  and  I  shall  not  abuse  it." 

"1  believe  you,  Viracocha.     And   now  I  shall  answer 

*  White  man. 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  119 

your  question.  To  the  furtherance  of  your  enterprise  we 
can  give  thousands  of  strong  arms  and  stout  hearts,  which 
although  untaught  and  undisciplined,  will  be  an  avalanche 
as  to  numbers,  and  when  led  and  supported  by  military 
science  and  skill,  will  be  invaluable  auxiliaries  by  their 
.knowledge  of  the  country,  their  powers  of  endurance,  and 
their  blind  devotion  to  their  Queen.  But  we  can  do  more 
than  that.  We  can  give  you  treasures,  gold,  the  sinews 
of  war.  We  can  give  you  what  your  race  has  sought  for 
during  three  generations,  but  has  not  found  and  never  will 
find,  unless  we  give  it  to  you — the  treasure  of  Atahualpa 
and  Euiniilagui." 

Bellido's  eyes  dilated.  He  could  hardly  conceal  his  de 
light.  This  information,  if  true,  placed  the  success  of  his 
great  plans  bej-ond  doubt.  Still  he  would  hardly  believe 
it.  It  was  too  good  to  bo  true.  And  so  he  said  after  a 
pause  :  "  But  does  that  treasure  really  exist  ?  " 

"  It  does,  Seilor  Bellido.  And  to  satisfy  you  that  what  I 
say  is  true,  and  what  I  promise  shall  be  accomplished,  I 
shall  let  you  see  the  treasure.  Mark  me  ;  you  shall  see  it, 
only  see  it.  Nothing  can  be  taken  from  it  except  by  order 
of  my  Queen,  and  she  will  use  it  only  for  the  cause  of  our 
race.  There  must  be  giving  and  taking.  For  what  we 
shall  give  3-011,  we  demand  an  equivalent  more  precious  to 
us  than  gold  or  jewels." 

"And  what  is  it  you  demand  of  us,  my  unknown 
friend  ?  " 

"  There  are  two  things,  Senor  Procurator-General,  which 
must  be  conceded  to  us  before  the  co-operation  I  propose 
can  be  effected.  In  the  first  place,  our  Queen  must  be  made 
your  Queen  ;  that  is  to  say,  she  must  marry  the  man  upon 
whom  you  confer  the  royal  dignity.  Our  Indians  will  not 
follow  unless  a  Shyri-Inca  leads.  They  obey  their  own 
sovereign,  who  is  their  head.  Without  this  head,  they 
could  not  be  depended  upon.  Crown  a  King  of  your  otvn 
race,  and  let  him  marry  Toa  Duchicela,  and  there  is  not  an 


120  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

Indian  man,  woman,  or  child  in  the  kingdom  that  would 
not  die  in  his  defense.  In  the  second  place,  we  must  have 
our  rights,  Seiior.  We  have  been  ground  to  dust ;  we  have 
been  treated  as  beasts  of  burden.  We  must  be  treated  as 
human  beings.  You  have  made  slaves  of  us  ;  we  want  our 
freedom.  Give  us  our  freedom,  and  your  movement  shall 
be  successful.  The  two  races  can  live  together  in  harmony 
and  peace.  The  Indian  will  till  your  soil  and  perform  your 
labor,  as  a  free  man,  more  willingly  than  as  a  slave  ;  and, 
if  there  are  those  among  us  who  have  it  in  them  to  rise  to 
the  higher  places,  do  not  plunge  them  back  into  the  abyss 
of  misery  and  degradation.  Look  at  me  !  Do  I  not  speak 
your  language  as  well  as  any  one  of  you  ;  and  yet  I  never 
knew  of  the  existence  of  your  race  until  Pizarro  had 
landed  in  Peru.  I  do  not  demand  an  answer  now.  I  ask 
you  to  reflect  over  what  I  have  said.  I  ask  you  to  see  what 
I  am  willing  to  show  you,  in  order  to  influence  your  de 
cision.  Meet  me  to-night,  on  the  Chorrera  road,  on  Mt. 
Pichincha,  and,  if  you  are  willing  to  trust  yourself  to  me, 
as  I  have  trusted  myself  to  you,  you  shall  see  what  our  race 
can  do  for  your  cause.  I  shall  expect  you  shortly  after 
dark.  Come  alone,  and  make  no  attempt  to  capture  or  be 
tray  me  ;  it  would  be  of  no  avail.  Will  you  come?" 

"  Most  certainly  and  gladly  I  shall." 

And  that  same  night,  he  met  Cundurazu  on  Mt.  Pichin 
cha,  where  they  found  Can-era,  and  were  soon  joined  by 
Queen  Toa  attended  by  a  number  of  Indians. 


BOOK   II.       REALITIES.  121 


CHAPTEK  X. 

THE    HIDDEN    TREASURE. 

"Are  you  ready  to  follow  us  ?  "  asked  the  Indian  Queen. 

The  two  gentlemen  bowed  and  said,  "  We  are." 

"  Then  you  will  not  object  to  a  little  formality,  which, 
unfortunately,  can  not  be  dispensed  with.  You  must  al 
low  yourselves  to  be  blindfolded.  Senor  Carrera,  whom  I 
have  known  a  few  days  longer  than  you,  Senor  Bellido, 
has  expressly  promised  to  trust  me,  as  I  have  trusted  him. 
And.,as  I  could  have  no  possible  motive  in  doing  harm  to 
either  of  you  gentlemen,  I  believe  that  you,  SeSor  Bellido, 
will  follow  his  example." 

"  I  hate  to  be  deprived  of  sight,  even  for  the  shortest 
time,"  said  Bellido,  "  but  I  see  no  reason  for  refusing  to 
obey  your  Highness.  By  the  very  fact  of  my  coming  here, 
I  have  placed  myself  under  your  Highness'  orders." 

"Well  said,  Senor.  Let  us  lose  no  time,  then.  Take 
off  your  hats,  gentlemen,  and  leave  them  to  our  attend 
ants."  With  these  words  she  threw  a  hood  over  Carrera's 
head,  and  fastened  it  with  a  bandage  across  his  eyes. 
Cundurazu  did  the  same  to  Bellido.  ''Give  me  your  hand, 
Don  Julio!"  she  added,  seizing  his  hand,  with  a  gentle 
pressure. 

"I  shall  take  the  pleasure  of  leading  you.  Senor  Pro 
curator,"  said  Cnndurazu  ;  and  the  party  moved  on  at  once, 
ascending  acclivities  and  descending  into  ravines,  now 
stumbling  over  rocks,  now  wading  through  sand  or  pum 
ice-stone,  or  fording  torrents,  which  came  rushing  down 
their  mountainous  beds.  Physical  exertion  in  such  alti 
tudes  is  very  fatiguing,  and  our  white  gentlemen  were 
frequently  compelled  to  arrest  the  onward  step  of  their 


122  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

Indian  leaders,  in  order  to  recover  their  breath  and 
strength.  The  journey  seemed  to  be  endless  and  doubly 
trying,  as  not  a  word  was  spoken.  At  times  it  seemed  to 
Bcllido  that  they"  were  purposely  led  in  a  round-about 
way,  in  order  to  deceive  them  as  to  the  locality  they  were 
to  visit.  At  last  the  procession  came  to  a  halt. 

"  Stoop  down,  gentlemen,"  said  the  silvery  voice  of  Toa, 
"and  walk  on  stooping  until  I  tell  you  that  it  is  no  longer 
necessary."  Again  they  walked  on  for  a  considerable  dis 
tance,  until  Toa  stopped  them  :  "We  are  through  and  shall 
give  you  a  little  rest."  For  the  last  two  or  three  minutes 
the  distant  sound  of  rushing  waters  had  become  audible, 
and  now  the  travelers  plainly  heard  a  roaring  torrent 
dashing  and  breaking  itself  against  narrow  and  rocky 
defiles.  "  Uma  !  Is  the  water  turned  off  ?"  asked  To#. 

"Yes,  Shyri  !"  answered  an  Indian  voice.  And  really 
the  noise  of  rushing  waters  suddenly  began  to  lessen,  until 
it  had  almost  died  away  or  changed  into  a  mere  ripple. 

"  We  must  march  on  fui'ther,"  said  Toa,  again  taking 
Carrera's  hand.  "Be  careful,  we  are  descending.  Take 
hold  of  my  arm  or  you  will  fall.  One  more  step  and  our 
descent  is  made.  Now  comes  a  last  ascent;  but  you  shall 
be  carried  the  rest  of  the  way." 

Unseen  arms  seized  the  two  Yiracochas  and  carried  them 
an  additional  distance.  They  were  again  ascending.  At 
last  a  halt  was  made,  and  the  bandage  was  taken  from  their 
eyes.  Complete  darkness  surrounded  them.  They  knew 
they  were  not  in  the  open  air,  but  they  had  no  conception 
of  where  they  were. 

"  I  shall  not  blind  your  eyes  with  sudden  light.  You 
must  recover  }-our  sight  gradually,''  said  Toa.  And  so  it 
was  done.  A  dimly  burning  torch  appeared  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  slowly  came  nearer,  increasing  in  blaze  as  it 
approached.  Another,  and  still  another  followed,  enabling 
the  gentlemen  to  examine  the  place  where  they  found  them 
selves.  It  was  a  subterranean  vault  or  cave.  Toa  stood 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  123 

in  the  center,  clad  in  a  white  alpaca  robe,  and  wearing  the 
emblem  of  Shyri  royalty,  a  magnificent  emerald  fastened 
to  a  diadem.  Next  to  her  stood  Cundurazu,  arrayed  in 
garments  such  as  the  nobles  of  the  ancient  kingdom  wore. 
Two  Indians,  similarly  dressed,  stood  behind  him,  while 
five  or  six  torch-bearers  posted  themselves  in  different 
parts  of  the  hall,  so  as  to  light  it  up  completely. 

But  the  ej'es  of  the  two  gentlemen  now  fell  upon  another 
sight,  which  filled  them  with  wonder  and  amazement. 
Piled  up  along  the  walls,  and  in  the  center  of  the  cave, 
were  monstrous  gold  and  silver  bars,  heaps  of  golden  ves 
sels,  ornamented  with  precious  stones,  and  of  exquisite 
workmanship,  statues  of  precious  metals,  golden  suns  and 
moons,  huge  chains  of  gold,  and  a  gigantic  pile  of  gold 
coins,  heaped  up  in  the  center,  and  bearing  the  stamp  of 
Charles  V.,  whichNshowed  that  the  possessors  of  the  secret 
must  have  found  means  to  secure  the  good  will  and  services 
of  the  officers  of  the  Royal  Mint,  at  Lima.  Next  to  this 
pile  of  coins  a  Spanish  cloak  was  spread,  and  on  it  lay 
sprawling  a  complete  skeleton,  with  a  grinning  skull.  A 
large  Spanish  plumed  hat  lay  on  one  side  of  it,  and  a 
Spanish  sword  on  the  other.  Close  to  one  of  the  walls  of 
the  cave  rose  a  throne  of  gold,  studded  with  emeralds,  and 
on  it  sat  a  mummy,  horrifying  in  its  ugliness,  its  eyeless 
skull  covered  with  a  diadem,  to  which  a  large  emerald  was 
attached.  A  golden  scepter  rested  in  the  lap  of  the  corpse. 
The  terror  spread  over  the  scene  by  the  ghastly  presence 
of  grim  death,  seemed  to  mock  the  impression  which  the 
sight  of  such  treasures  had  produced  on  the  visitors. 

A  long  pause  followed.  Carrera  did  not  know  whether 
he  was  awake,  or  whether  he  again  lay  dreaming  in  Mama 
Eucu's  cottage.  Even  the  strong  mind  and  nerves  of 
Alonzo  Bellido  were  overwhelmed,  and  he  waited  breath 
lessly  for  what  was  to  come. 

"This,"  began  Toa,  solemnly,  "is  the  treasure  of  my 
great-grandfather,  Huaynacapac,  and  of  my  grandfather, 


124  TOE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

Atahualpa.  The  usurper  Kumiiiagui  had  seized  it  and  hid 
it  here,  lest  it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards. 
After  his  death  the  secret  of  its  hiding-place  was  commu 
nicated  to  those  who  were  the  legitimate  representatives  of 
my  house.  Hundreds  of  my  race  perished  on  the  rack,  or 
in  the  flames,  because  they  would  not  divulge  its  secret. 
Man}-  knew  it  then".  Many  know  it  now.  Most  of  them 
arc  poor  and  starving  wretches,  who,  by  taking  but  a  hand 
ful,  might  secure  comfort  and  plenty  for  the  rest  of  their 
days.  But  the  humblest  of  my  subjects  would  perish  of 
destitution,  rather  than  take  one  grain  of  gold-dust  of 
what  is  the  property  of  our  nation,  subject  to  the  disposal 
of  its  legitimate  rulers.  I  am  the  rightful  owner  of  what 
you  see  here  ;  but  1  vow  to  Pachacamac  the  Great,  and 
call  the  Sun  and  the  Moon  as  my  witnesses,  that  I  should 
leave  it  here,  buried  and  forgotten  forever,  rather  than  use 
it  for  any  purpose,  or  with  any  view  other  than  the  libera 
tion  of  my  race." 

A  slow  and  deep  murmur  of  approbation,  uttered  by  her 
Indian  listeners,  followed  this  speech. 

"  This,"  she  continued,  pointing  to  the  mummy  on  the 
golden  throne,  "  is  my  father.  Peace  to  his  remains,  and 
glory  to  his  memory  !  This  great  and  good  man,"  point 
ing  to  Cundurazu,  "  rescued  him  when  a  suckling  babe, 
from  the  murderous  fangs  of  Rumiflagui,  who  had  deter 
mined  on  the  destruction  of  all  that  were  of  the  royal 
blood  of  Atahualpa.  The  noble  Cundurazu  saved  him,  hid 
him,  and  educated  him,  and  when>death  had  claimed  him, 
he  brought  him  here  to  watch  over  these  treasures,  and 
enjoj'  the  honors  due  under  our  laws  and  customs  to  de 
parted  royalty.  This,"  pointing  to  the  skeleton  on  the 
ground,  "  was  a  Spanish  Corregidor,  who  had  been  most 
heartless  and  cruel  to  our  race.  His  Indian  victims  could 
not  be  counted.  Hundreds  he  sacrificed  to  his  avarice  and 
rapacity,  until  my  father  gave  orders  that  he  should  be 
allured  hither.  One  of  our  men  offered  to  betray  to  him 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  125 

the  secret  of  the  great  treasure.  The  tyrant  greedily 
grasped  at  the  offer,  and  imprudentlj*  allowed  himself  to 
be  conducted  to  this  place.  He  never  left  it.  After  he  had 
seen  everything  the  torches  were  extinguished,  and  night 
closed  in  upon  him — a  long,  last,  terrible  night,  without 
moon  or  stars,  and  never  followed  by  a  morning  dawn,  or 
the  light  of  day.  There  you  see  his  remains  !  He  died  a 
plow  and  agonizing  death,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  gold  for 
which  he  had  thirsted.  Look  around  you,  gentlemen  ; 
there  is  no  visible  egress  here.  You  could  not  find  your 
way  out,  even  with  the  torches  burning.  You  are  our 
prisoners,  and  your  lives  depend  on  our  mercy." 

Bellido  shuddered,  but  Carrera,  though  greatly  awed, 
looked  confidently  at  the  speaker  and  smiled.  He  felt  in 
stinctively  that  his  life  was  safer  in  her  hands  than  in  his 
own.  She  noticed  and  understood  his  smile,  arid  returned 
it  by  a  rapid,  but  unspeakable  glance  of  tenderness. 

"  Yet,  gentlemen,"  she  resumed,  "  you  have  trusted  us 
as  we  have  trusted  you,  and  you  may  consider  yourselves 
as  safe  here  as  at  your  own  homes.  Our  object  to-night 
was  to  show  you  our  power.  Look  at  these  treasures  and 
judge  for  yourselves.  But  it  is  not  money  alone  that  we 
can  give.  If  you  say  the  word,  thousands  of  hearts  and 
arms  will  be  at  your  disposal.  All  we  ask  in  return  is  the 
freedom  of  our  race,  and  the  recognition  of  our  rights  as 
human  beings.  I  have  sent  this  trusted  friend  to  you,  Se- 
fior  Bellido,  with  full  powers  to  represent  me  and  the  in 
terests  of  my  people.  I  now  reaffirm  his  authority.  What 
ever  he  may  agree  upon  with  you  and  the  municipality  of 
Quito,  will  have  my  full  sanction.  And  whatever  I  under 
take  or  promise  will  be  carried  out  by  my  people.  And 
now,  Prince  Cundurazu,  take  our  friends  back  into  the 
open  air,  where  I  shall  soon  join  you.  I  desire  to  be  alone 
fora  few  minutes  with  the  remains  of  my  father." 

With  these  words  Toa  slowly  walked  over  to  the  golden 
throne  and  prostrated  herself  before  the  ghastly  mummy 


126  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

that  sat  in  it,  a  mocking  specter  or  royalty.  Not  another 
word  was  spoken.  Cundurazu  approached  the  two  gentle 
men  and  indicated  to  them  by  a  sign  that  they  must  be 
blindfolded  again.  This  time  they  both  submitted  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Again  they  were  carried  for  a  while  by 
strong,  unseen  arms,  and  when  their  feet  touched  the 
ground  once  more,  the  same  arduous  and  fatiguing  march 
had  to  be  made,  up  hill  and  down  hill,  over  rocks  and 
through  ravines,  now  through  deep  sand,  then,  again, 
through  mountainous  streams  that  intersected  their  path. 

Carrera's  hand  was  in  that  of  a  powerful  Indian,  who 
led  him  along.  Suddenly  he  felt  that  his  hand  had  been 
released  fora  moment,  and  when  it  was  seized  again  it  was 
a  smaller  and  gentler  hand  that  held  it  with  a  slight  pres 
sure.  He  felt  that  Toa  was  at  his  side,  and  recognized  it 
by  returning  the  pressure. 

"Do  you  believe  me  now?"  she  asked. 

"  I  never  doubted  your  word,  Lady  Toa." 

"  Do  you  still  think  that  my  hopes  are  visionary?" 

"  Your  Highness  has  not  confided  your  plans  to  me. 
Nevertheless,  I  recognize  the  great  power  which  is  at  your 
Highness7  command." 

"  Yes,  Don  Julio,  a  time  of  peace  and  rest  may  come  after 
all,  even  for  a  fugitive  and  a  wanderer  like  myself.  What 
would  life  be  to  me  without  that  hope?  " 

"And  has  your  Highness  never  loved  ?  "  asked  Carrera. 

"Do  you  refer  to  the  present  or  to  the  past?  If  to  the 
past,  I  must  answer,  no.  There  are  but  few  of  my  own 
race  who  are  my  equals,  and  those  few  are  in  Peru.  Here 
in  these  parts  the  descendants  of  the  few  nobles  who  es 
caped  the  fury  of  Kuminagui,  and  of  the  Spanish  conquer 
ors,  are  mostly  without  culture ;  and  I  am  fastidious  in 
this  respect,  for,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  Don  Julio, 
considering  my  roaming  mode  of  life,  1  am  not  without 
education.  Dona  Carmen  Duchicela,  on  whose  estate  I  was 
brought  up  secretly,  has  done  more  than  a  mother's  part 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  127 

by  me.  I  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  her  own  children, 
or  rather  they  enjoyed  the  advantages  which  her  love  and 
kindness  had  accorded  to  me.  Learned  men  of  both  races 
had  come  from  Lima,  to  teach  her  wayward,  ungrateful 
grandniece  whose  present  course  and  aspirations  aggrieve 
her  so  sorely.  Perhaps,  if  she  had  given  me  no  education, 
I  should  not  struggle  and  strive  as  I  do  now,  and  should 
be  all  the  happier  for  it.  The  Jewish  prophet  is  right  when 
saying  :  '  In  much  wisdom  there  is  much  grief,  and  he  that 
increaseth  knowledge,  increaseth  sorrow.'  Love?  if  you 
refer  to  the  past,  Don  Julio,  I  had  no  time  for  it.  The 
cares  for  my  own  safety,  and  the  affairs  of  my  wandering 
government  would  not  have  given  love  a  chance  to  steal 
into  my  heart,  even  if  there  had  been  an  object." 

"And  the  present." 

"  Why  should  you  care  to  know,  Don  Julio?  What 
could  Toa  Duchicela  be  to  you?  Your  heart  is  not,  free. 
Does  it  not  belong  to  Dolores  Solando,  to  whom  but  last 
night  you  made  almost  a  declaration  of  love?" 

u  Senora  !  Your  information  is  wonderful,  although  your 
informant  is  not  quite  correct.  But  how  could  you  know 
that  I  was  with  Dolores  Solando  last  night?  " 

"Ah,  Don  Julio,  this  is  an  additional  evidence  of  my 
power,  which  verges  on  omniscience.  There  is  not  a  house 
in  Quito,  whose  secrets  1  could  not  learn,  if  I. wished  to  know 
them.  But  do  not  be  alarmed.  This  is  not  the  power  of 
witchcraft;  but  the  clue  to  it  is  the  devotion  of  my  people, 
and  their  readiness  to  serve  me.  Do  you  preceive  it  now  ?  " 

"I  do  Senora!  And  as  you  know  so  much,  you  had 
better  know  it  all.  For  years  I  had  been  in  love  with 
Dolores.  I  had  never  succeeded  in  securing  an  opportun 
ity  to  declare  myself.  But  when  the  opportunity  pre 
sented  itself  at  last  unsought  and  unexpected,  it  was  no 
longer  welcome,  but  almost  painful  and  embarrassing.  A 
week  before,  I  might  have  spoken,  while  I  remained  silent 


128  THE    SECRET   OP    THE    ANDES. 

last  night.     A  week  before  I  should  have  made  a  proposal, 
while  I  had  none  to  make  last  night." 

"And  what  has  caused  this  change?  " 

"  Can  you  ask,  Lady  Tou  ?  The  ej-es  that  I  shall  never 
forget,  the  silvery  voice  that  is  always  in  my  ear,  the  ma 
jestic,  and  yet  so  graceful  apparition,  that  is  ever  present 
to  my  mind— it  is  you,  Shyri  Toa,  who  have  wrought  this 
change." 

"  My  poor  friend  !  I  told  you  once  that  it  is  dangerous 
to  be  a  friend  to  Toa  Duchicela.  It  would  be  tenfold  more 
dangerous  to  love  her." 

"  What  would  I  not  brave  for  you?  Even  if  I  did  not 
love  you,  admiration  and  friendship  would  make  me  your 
faithful  knight.  But  you  have  taken  possession  of  my 
heart,  Lady  Toa,  and  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  recover 
it." 

"  Think  twice  before  yon  commit  yourself  hastily,  and 
perhaps  very  imprudently.  The  man  who  loves  me,  and 
whom  I  love,  may  become  the  foremost,  the  richest,  the 
greatest  man  of  the  land,  but  he  may  also  become  a  mere 
victim,  sacrificed  to  the  evil  fortunes  of  my  house.  I  have 
still  sufficient  control  over  myself  to  refuse  such  a  sacrifice. 
Do  not  say  more,  Senor  Carrera  !  Do  not  arouse  the  pas 
sions  of  an  untutored  and  undisciplined  nature  ;  for  then  I 
might  demand,  exact,  compel  the  sacrifice." 

"  Sefiora  Toa,  what  you  say  of  riches  and  greatness  is 
nothing  to  me.  I  love  you  for  your  own  sake  ;  and  the 
homeless  wanderer,  suffering  for  the  misfortune  of  her  royal 
birth,  and  denying  herself  all  the  comforts  of  existence  and 
all  the  hope  of  present  and  perhaps  future  happiness,  to 
serve — whether  mistakenly  or  not — the  cause  of  her  race, 
is  dearer  to  me  than  the  powerful  possessor  of  all  the  treas 
ures  you  have  shown  to  me  to-night." 

"  Don-  Julio !  I  shall  speak  without  reserve.  Reserve 
may  be  an  admirable  quality  for  a  young  lady  living  under 
her  father's  roof,  protection,  and  care.  But  I,  the  fugitive 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  129 

and  the  wanderer,  have  no  time  for  reserve.  I  must  speak 
truthfully,  openly,  plainly.  You  say  you  love  me.  Whether 
you  say  so  under  the  influence  of  my  presence,  and  will  not 
say  the  same  thing  to  Dolores  Solando,  when  I  arn  away,  I 
do  not  know.  Men  are  strange  beings,  and  I  do  not  know 
them  enough.  But  whether  you  love  me  or  not,  whether 
yon  love  me  truly,  or  whether  you  mistake  your  present 
feelings  of  sympathy,  pity,  friendship,  for  love,  I  can  make 
the  confession  that  I  love  you.  Why  you  should  have 
stolen  into  my  heart,  I  know  not.  It  is  enough  to  say 
that  I  love  you,  loved  you  before  you  knew  of  my  ex 
istence.  It  may  be  a  fatal  and  unfortunate  love,  and 
yet  I  love  you.  But,  Don  Julio  do  Carrera,  love  must 
play  a  secondary  part  in  the  great  work  of  my  life. 
I  have  a  mission  to  perform,  a  goal  to  reach.  If  my  love 
were  an  impediment  to  the  task  1  have  to  fulfill,  I  would 
stamp  out  the  last  spark  of  it — no  matter  what  the  anguish 
of  my  heart  would  be.  My  people  first,  my  own  self  last. 
I  love  you,  Don  Julio.  With  a  woman's  weakness,  I  con 
fess  it.  But,  with  a  Queen's  firmness,  I  tell  you  that  this 
love  must  be  no  hindrance  to  my  plans,  but  it  must  be 
made  subservient  to  their  furtherance.  If  you  can  help 
me,  if  you  possess  the  courage,  the  devotion,  the  generos 
ity  to  carry  out  the  plans  which  my  friend  and  counselor 
has  submitted,  or  is  even  now  submitting  to  Don  Alonzo 
Bellido,  I  accept  your  love,  and  shall  return  it  with  all  the 
passion,  the  loj^altj'',  the  constancy  of  an  Indian  heart. 
But  if  you  love  only  Toa,  the  mysterious  and  the  weird, 
the  woman  Toa  and  not  also  Toa  the  Queen,  whose  mission 
it  is  to  save  her  people  ;  and  if,  instead  of  helping  her,  you 
will  look  coldly  upon  my  great  task  as  visionary,  my  heart 
would  almost  break  ;  but  I  would  refuse  your  love,  and 
strive  to  forget  my  own  weakness." 

Long  before  she  had  finished  this  speech,  she  had  snatched 
the  bandage  from  his  eyes,  and  now  stood  before  him,  hold 
ing  both  his  hands  in  hers,  and  looking  at  him  tenderly, 


130  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

earnestly,  and  sadly.  "  Yes,  my  friend,"  she  continued, 
'•among  the  loftiest  cliffs  of  our  giant  mountains,  in 
those  lonely  heights  where  almost  all  vegetation  ceases — 
even  there,  you  will  now  and  then  find,  hidden  under  the 
snow,  a  beautiful  flower,  placed  there  as  if  to  remind  the 
daring  traveler  that  there  are  other  scenes  brighter  and 
happier  than  the  dreary  solitude  of  the  wilderness. 
I  shall  look  upon  my  love  for  you  as  the  sad  and 
lonely  flower  that  grows  under  the  snows  of  Chimbo- 
razo  or  Antisana,  a  forlorn  hope,  an  outpost  of  a  friendlier 
zone,  inaccessible  to  me — a  misplaced  little  unfortunate, 
that  has  no  right  to  exist  amidst  the  howling  storms  and 
under  the  chilling  snows.  I  shall  say  :  l  My  life  is  the 
mountain  wilderness,  the  loneliness  of  the  Paramo,  with  its 
fogs  and  hurricanes,  with  its  icy  rocks  and  sands.  The 
flower  of  love  is  there,  hidden  under  the  snow,  but  it 
blooms  in  vain.  No  human  eye  greets  it,  no  friendly  hand 
will  pluck  it,  no  loving  bosom  will  receive  it.'  " 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

THE    WARNING. 

THE  party  had  nearly  returned  to  the  place  from  which 
they  had  set  out  on  their  mysterious  journey,  and,  the  dark 
ness  of  the  night  had  begun  to  yield  to  the  morning  dawn, 
when  a  strange  obstruction  in  their  path  suddenly  arrested 
their  progress.  A  crude  portable  chair  had  been  placed 
across  their  way  by  its  four  Indian  carriers,  at  a  turning 
of  the  road,  and  seated  in  ,the  chair  was  the  shriveled  form 
of  an  old  Indian  woman,  with  a  mummy-like  face,  with 
white  disheveled  hair,  and  her  eyes  flashing  and  rolling 
like  those  of  a  maniac.  It  was  Mama  Eucu.  Toa  ap- 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  131 

preached  her,  and  affectionately  bent  over  her,  listening  to 
what  she  had  to  say. 

"It  is  you,  Senor  Bellido,"  said  the  Indian  Queen,  "to 
whom  she  wants  to  speak.  Listen  to  her  attentively. 
Treasure  up  her  words  in  your  memory  ;  for  they  are  the 
words  of  wisdom  and  truth." 

The  appearance  of  Mama  Eucu.  although  Bellido  had 
seen  her  before,  filled  him  with  superstitious  awe.  There 
was  something  weird  and  unearthly  in  her  countenance 
and  expression.  Her  appearance  at  this  time  and  place 
was  in  keeping  with  the  wonders  of  the  night  through 
which  he  had  passed.  He  approached  her  with  uncovered 
head,  and  waited  to  be  spoken  to. 

"Yes,  Yes!"  the  old  woman  said,  with  a  hoarse  laugh. 
"  I  know  him.  I  have  seen  him  before  ;  but  never  so  clearly 
as  I  did  last  night  in  my  vision,  after  I  had  taken  the 
draught  of  life — the  Heavenly  Samarucu.  Come  here,  my 
son,  come  here  !  Let  me  feel  thy  hands  !  May  Pachaca- 
mac  protect  thee  in  the  hour  of  danger,  which  is  approach 
ing  fast.  'Dost  thou  understand  my  language,  my  Son  ?" 

"  I  do,  Mother  ;  speak  on  !" 

"  It  is  well !  Ah,  thou  art  the  man  !  He  is  the  man, 
Queen  Toa  ;  he  is  the  hand  that  must  strike  the  great 
blow ;  he  is  the  head  that  must  think  the  great  thoughts  ; 
he  is  the  bow  that  will  send  the  arrow  to  the  mark. 
Young  man,"  she  proceeded,  turning  to  Carrera,  ''  here  is 
thy  master.  Follow  his  counsels,  and  thou  wilt  be  safe. 
But  now,  Alonzo,  my  Son,  let  rae  tell  thee  that  a  great 
danger  awaits  thee.  I  have  come  to  warn  thee.  Poor  old 
Mama  Eucu,  who  needs  rest — it  will  soon  be  eternal  rest — 
has  left  her  couch  long  before  the  break  of  day  to  warn 
thee  ;  to  save  thee  !  Behold  !  my  limbs  are  weak  with  age. 
I  could  not  have  walked  hither  this  morning.  My  strength 
is  fast  ebbing  away.  And  so  I  had  myself  carried  b}-  these 
men,  which  is  against  the  laws  our  conquerors  have  imposed. 
They  will  not  allow  us  this  comfort.  But  no  matter !  I 


]32  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

bad  to  come  here  to  warn  thee,  my  Son.  JVilt  tliou  heed 
my  warning?" 

"I  will,  Mother!" 

"  Thy  lifr  is  in  danger,  and  will  be  in  danger  for  weeks 
to  come.  Do  not  ask  me  why  or  how.  I  could  not  tell. 
I  have  seen  a  dreadful  vision.  I  saw  thee  weltering  in  thy 
blood — dying — dying — dead.  Beware!  Beware!  Beware!" 

"Of  what  shall  I  bewai-e,  Mother?" 

"  Of  murder  !  The  assassins  are  lying  in  wait  for  thee 
even  now.  Thy  caution  alone  can  save  thee  !" 

"But  how,  Mother?" 

"  Do  not  leave  thy  house  at  night,  or  before  the  busy 
hum  of  day  has  begun  to  be  heard  on  the  streets.  Do  not 
go  to  thy  house  now.  Wait  a  few  hours,  and  then  thou 
wilt  escape  this  time.  The  danger  is  great.  It  will  last 
for  two  moons.  During  two  moons  thou  must  beware. 
Live  through  two  moons,  and  nothing  shall  harm  thee. 
But  if  thou  disregardest  my  words,  thou  wilt  not  re-enter 
thy  house  alive.  And  now  I  am  done.  I  have  said  all 
that  thou  must  know.  Thy  life  is  in  thine  own  hands. 
Thou  mayest  keep  it,  or  throw  it  away."  And,  with  these 
words,  she  beckoned  to  her  Indian  carriers  to  move  on  ; 
and,  before  Bellido  had  fully  recovered  from  his  astonish 
ment,  she  was  out  of  reach. 

"  Heed  the  warning,  Seiior  Bellido,  heed  it !"  added  Toa. 
"  I  never  knew  Mama  Eucu  to  err." 

"I  thank  your  Royal  Highness  for  the  advice.  Mama 
Rueu's  warning  is  evidently  well  meant,  and  I  shall  heed 
it  as  much  as  I  can.  But  how  could  I,  at  this  critical 
emergency,  when  my  presence  will  be  required  everywhere, 
and  at  all  times,  confine  myself  to  my  house  at  night?  I 
shall  be  cautious.  I  shall  wear  a  coat-of-mail  under  my 
doublet ;  yet,  if  I  am  to  be  pursued  by  assassins,  all  pre 
caution,  1  fear,  will  be  in  vain.  My  life,  Lady  Toa,  is  in 
the  hands  of  God,  and  in  Him  I  must  confide." 

"  Your  life,  Sefior  Bellido,  has  become  precious  to  us. 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  133 

Our  race  looks  to  you  and  to  my  friend  here,"  pointing  to 
Carrera,  "  for  that  protection  which  our  own  weakness  can 
not  afford.  I  shall  give  orders  to  my  subjects  to  watch 
over  your  safety,  and  to  warn  you  in  case  of  danger. 
Prince  Cundurazu  will  confer  with  you  this  afternoon. 
And  you,  Senor  Carrera,"  she  whispered  again,  "  will  you. 
be  with  Dolores  Solando  to-night?" 

"  Shyri  Toa  "— 

"  Enough  !  If  the  day  passes  without  disturbances,  I 
shall  meet  you  at  the  Church  of  La  Merced  after  dark. 
But,  should  we  be  unable  to  meet,  you  shall  receive  a  mes 
sage  from  me  to-morrow.  Take  this,  Julio,"  she  said,  giv 
ing  him  a  small  silver  moon,  with  an  emerald  in  the  cen 
ter,  "  and  if  you  ever  should  want  to  send  me  a  letter  or  a 
message,  show  this  to  any  Indian,  and  say  that  your  letter 
or  message  must  reach  the  Shyri  Toa.  It  will  come  to  me 
as  surely  as  the  waters  run  to  the  sea." 


CHAPTEB  XIII. 

LYING    IN    WAIT. 

STORES  and  shops  occupied  the  ground-floor  of  houses  at 
Quito  then,  as  they  do  now.  These  shops  are  always  with 
out  windows,  and  receive  what  little  light  and  air  they  get 
through  the  door.  Alonzo  Bellido's  house  stood  in  the 
street  leading  from  the  southeast  corner  of  the  Great 
Square  toward  Mount  Panecillo.  Carrera  lived  on  the 
same  street,  a  short  distance  from  Bel  lido.  The  day  had 
hardly  dawned.  The  streets  were  still  quiet  and  deserted. 
Not  even  the  tramp  of  the  watch  was  heard.  The  door  of 
one  of  the  shops — it  was  a  dram  shop — in  the  house  oppo 
site  to  that  of  Bellido,  wras  slightly  ajar,  and  a  man,  who 
seemed  to  be  lying  on  the  floor  on  the  inside,  pushed  his 


131  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

head  through  the  opening  and  cautiously  looked  up  and 
down  the  street.  It  was  an  ugly  head,  covered  with  bushy 
hair,  turning  gray.  His  face  was  disfigured  with  scars 
and  adorned  with  a  tremendous  moustache  and  chin- 
beard.  After  the  man  had  inspected  the  street  in  every 
direction,  he  drew  his  head  back  into  the  shop  again,  and 
rolled  himself  toward  the  wall,  where  a  couch  had  been 
improvised  of  sheepskins  and  ponchos. 

''I  think  we  have  waited  in  vain  !  "  said  the  man.  "  He 
has  not  yet  come  home,  and  the  Devil  knows  whether  he 
will  come  at  all.  You  are  getting  sleepy,  lldefonso." 

The  man  to  whom  these  remarks  were  addressed  was 
lying  on  the  other  side  of  the  shop,  with  an  empty  bottle 
before  him,  which  he  took  up  occasionally  in  search  of  a  last 
drop.  Both  men  were  soldiers.  They  wore  the  uniforms 
of  Eoyal  Arquebusiers  under  the  heavy  black  cloaks  in 
which  they  had  wrapped  themselves  ;  for  the  night  had  been 
very  cool  and  the  morning  was  very  chilly.  On  the  coun 
ter,  in  the  rear  of  the  dingy  shop,  stood  an  expiring  tallow- 
candle,  hissing  and  spurting  in  its  socket  and  filling  the 
room,  with  nauseous  smoke.  Two  arquebuses,  ready 
mounted,  and  with  matches  burning,  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  room.  The  implements  of  death  were  prepared ; 
but  the  victim  was  wanting. 

"It  strikes  me,  Juan,"  answered  the  other,  "that  those 
ink-worms,  their  High  Mightinesses  of  the  goose-quill, 
might  have  provided  more  generously  for  men  to  whom  a 
task  of  such  importance  has  been  confided.  May  the 
Devil  take  their  souls  without  delay  !  "  And,  with  these 
words,  the  pious  lldefonso  Coronel  flung  the  empty  bottle, 
the  sight  of  which  had  worried  him  long  enough,  into  one 
of  the  corners  of  the  dark  room,  so  as  to  send  the  pieces 
of  the  broken  glass  flying  in  every  direction.  At  the  same 
time,  the  dying  candle  on  the  counter  gave  its  last  spurt 
and  went  out,  and  a  faint  streak  of  day  light  broke  through 
the  opening  of  the  door. 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  135 

"You  should  not  complain,  Ildefonso.  Yon  have  had 
more  than  enough.  Why,  man,  you  are  drunk  now." 

,"Iwish  I  were,"  growled  the  other.  uSo  much  the  bet 
ter  for  our  job.  I  must  have  drink  to  be  sure  of  my  mark. 
If  1  have  not  fortified  myself  with  rum,  my  hand  is  un 
steady  and  my  eye  without  clearness.  By  Santiago  !  man, 
I  shall  be  completely  sober  in  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  so 
help  me  God,  I  could  not  hit  a  cow.  Without  a  good  dose 
of  rum,  man,  I  should  miss  an  elephant." 

"Stop!  Listen!  I  think  I  hear  something."  With  the 
game  cautiousness  Juan  del  Puente  pushed  his  head  out  of 
the  door  again  and  reconnoitered  the  street.  ult  is  nothing! 
not  a  soul  is  stirring." 

'•Who  is  to  pay  for  this  job?"  continued  Ildefonso  Coro- 
nel,  "and  where  shall  we  get  the  money?  By  the  Holy 
Virgin,  I  do  not  trust  these  ink-fishes  and  quill-drivers.  I 
hate  lawyers.  They  can  never  be  relied  upon.  The}r 
allure  you  into  all  sorts  of  things,,  and  then  slip  away  like 
eels.  Why  did  not  the  Captain  give  us  our  orders  and  our 
money?  '  Promises  are  good,  but  they  do  not  buy  olives. 
Thunder  and  lightning!  Here  we  kill. our  fellow,  and  then 
perhaps  they  will  prosecute  us  as  murderers,  instead  of 
paying  us  our  reward.  Such  things  have  happened  be 
fore.  Men  were  detailed  to  act  as  secret  executioners  and 
then  their  employers  murdered  the  executioners." 

"Ildefonso!  You  talk  like  a  fool  this  morning.  How 
many  soldiers  have  they  here?  A  very  small  band.  Do 
they  not  want  every  man  of  us?  Can't  you  see  that  the 
ink-worms  and  pettifoggers  of  the  Palace  are  trembling  for 
their  lives?  I  never  saw  such  cowardly  fellows  before. 
Do  you  think  they  could  spare  such  marksmen  as  Juan 
del  Puente  and  Ildefonso  Coronel?  They  will  get  down 
on  their  trembling  knees  before  us,  ere  these  insurrection 
ary  troubles  are  over.  There,  comrade,  I  was  afraid  you 
would  drink  too  much,  and  so  I  kept  back  one  bottle  of 
what  they  gave  us  to  warm  ourselves  with,  if  we  should 


136  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

have  to  wait  long.  It  comes  in  excellently  now."  And, 
with  these  words,  he  took  a  deep  draught,  and  then  handed 
the  bottle  to  his  comrade. 

"So  you  kept  this  bottle  back,  you  sly  devil!"  said  the 
other.  "And  what  else  have  you  kept  back?  I  do  not 
like  this  habit  of  yours.  It  is  altogether  too  wise  for  me. 
Who  has  appointed  you  my  guardian?  By  all  the  devils 
of  hell !  I  think  you  have  kept  other  things  back  as  well 
as  the  rum.  Some  money  must  have  been  paid  on  account. 
They  always  pay  part  of  it  down.  Where  is  it?  Why  do 
you  want  to  cheat  me?  Beware  of  me,  Juan  del  Puente, 
I  shall  have  my  revenge  if  you  dare  to  cheat  me." 

"Hand  back  that  bottle,  if  you  do  not  want  to  drink!" 
said  the  other,  "and  stop  your  slanderous  tongue.  Give 
me  that  bottle!" 

"I  am  not  in  a  hurry  about  it.  If  you  hold  on  to  what 
belongs  to  both  of  us,  I  shall  do  the  same.  Did  not  that 
scoundrel  of  an  ink-worm  call  you  back  after  both  you  and 
I  had  left  the  room?  What  did  he  whisper  to  you?" 

"  Man,  you  are  drunk  or  crazy.  Was  not  the  door  open? 
Could  you  not  see  both  of  us  plainly?  Do  you  want  to 
insult  me?  Well,  well,  lldefonso  Coronel,  if  it  should 
ever  happen  again  that  you  lose  your  foothold  in  the 
mire,  and  lie  sprawling  on  the  ground,  unable  to  get  up 
under  the  weight  of  your  armor,  Juan  del  Puente  will 
not  agt;in  be  a  barrier  between  you  and  the  Dutch  cav 
alrymen." 

This  reminiscence  mollified  the  distrustful  lldefonso,  and 
after  taking  a  long  pull  at  the  bottle,  he  said:  "You  are 
very  cross  this  morning.  I  am  sorry  you  can  not  take  a 
joke.  We  have  been  comrades  so  long  that  j*ou  should 
know  me  better.  Hark!  What  was  that?" 

"Indians  coming  to  town  with  their  fruit  and  vegetables. 
The  streets  will  soon  be  filled  with  people.  If  our  man 
does  not  make  his  appearance  very  soon,  we  shall  have  to 
postpone  the  job  until  the  evening." 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  137 

"If  he  must  die,  we  might  just  as  well  kill  him  in  the 
daytime." 

"But  it  will  not  be  so  easy  for  us  to  get  away,  when  the 
streets  begin  to  fill  with  people." 

"There  is  but  a  short  distance  between  here  and  the 
Palace.  We  are  not  to  go  back  to  the  barracks.  We  shall 
be  quartered  at  the  Palace.  The  ink-worms  are  afraid  they 
might  get  hurt." 

A  pause  followed,  during  which  the  bottle  changed  hands 
once  or  twice. 

"What  has  befallen  the  Captain?"  asked  lldefonso,  at 
last.  "  He  appears  to  be  changed  completely  of  late.  I 
never  saw  him  so  serious  and  crestfallen  before." 

"I  can  tell  you,  but  it  is  a  long  story.  You  were  not 
with  us  at  Neuss?" 

"No!"  said  lldefonso.  "I  had  been  sent  to  Brussels 
with  prisoners." 

"Well,  you  see — But  stop!  I  hear  voices!"  and  Juan 
pushed  his  head  out  of  the  door,  as  he  had  done  several 
times  before.  He  immediately  drew  it  back  again. 

"  Santa  Maria  !     There  is  our  man  at  last!" 

In  an  instant  lldefonso  was  on  his  feet. 

"But  he  is  not  alone.  There  is  somebody  with  him. 
They  are  standing  still  at  the  corner,  engaged  in  conver 
sation." 

"Well,  what  shall  we  do?" 

"1  hardly  know!" 

"  Shall  we  shoot  them  both,  so  that  the  other  can't  tell?" 

"Our  orders  are  to  shoot  one." 

"But  if  we  shoot  one,  the  other  may  turn  upon  us  and 
then  we  shall  have  a  row  and  an  exposure  ;  and  the  ink- 
fishes  at  the  Palace  will  charge  us  with  having  bungled 
the  job,  and  will  refuse  to  pay  us  our  money." 

"  There  is  something  in  what  you  say.  Still,  I  hate  to 
shoot  a  man  without  orders.  He  might  be  a  loyal  servant 
to  the  King." 


\ 

138  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"  The  Devil !  Why  should  he,  then,  be  prowling  around 
with  that  arch-traitor  and  rebel,  Bellido  ?  Let  us  shoot 
them  both  and  be  done  with  it." 

"  Here  they  come.     Let  us  decide  quick  ! " 

"But  how?" 

"  Give  me  the  dice-box.  One  throw;  the  highest  com 
mands." 

"  I  am  willing." 

"  Stop  !  It  is  not  necessary.  They  shake  hands  and 
part.  The  other  puts  a  key  into  a  house-door,  and  our  man 
comes  this  way.  Ah  !  I  see  !  His  Indian  porter  is  up  al 
ready  and  has  opened  the  door  of  his  house.  We  can  fin 
ish  him  as  he  passes  through  the  entry.  That  '11  be  a  neat 
way  of  doing  it  up.  Get  ready  man  !  " 

Noiselessly  Juan  del  Puente  now  opened  the  door  of  the 
shop  so  as  to  uncover  the  range  of  the  two  arquebuses,  and 
stealthily,  like  cats,  the  two  men  took  their  positions  be 
hind  their  pieces.  The  darkness  of  the  shop  enveloped 
them.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  see  them  or  their 
arquebuses  from  the  other  side  of  the  street.  The  sun  had 
not  yet  arisen.  Nothing  could  be  heard  but  the  steps  of 
the  approaching  victim. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   DEED. 

Bellido  had  spoken  long  and  earnestly  to  his  young  com 
panion.  Carrera  had  never  given  much  thought  to  polit 
ical  subjects.  He  had  played  with  the  Muses,  as  his  col 
lege  teachers  had  taught  and  encouraged  him  to  do;  but 
his  mind  had  not  been  directed  to  the  grave,  and  serious 
problems  which  Bellido  now  unfolded  to  him.  In  a  certain 
sense  it  was  a  new  revelation.  The  Procurator's  forcible 


BOOK   It.      REALITIES.  139 

statements  and  irresistible  arguments  produced  a  deep  im 
pression  on  his  youthful  listener. 

Before  they  had  reached  the  great  Square,  they  met  old 
Alonzo  Sanchez  wrapped  up  in  his  cloak  and  hurrying 
home.  He  stopped  them  as  he  recognized  Bellido. 

"  By  Santiago  !  Where  do  you  come  from,  and  where 
have  you  been  ?  " 

"Might  I  not  ask  the  same  question,  Don  Alonzo?" 

"  Of  course  you  shall !  "  replied  Sanchez.  "  The  Cabildo 
was  in  session  all  night  and  applied  itself  to  business  thor 
oughly.  Most  of  your  excellent  suggestions  were  acted 
upon  ;  but  we  missed  you  very  much  indeed.  We  sent 
messengers  in  every  direction  and  could  not  find  you.  For 
Heaven's  sake,  where  have  you  kept  yourself?  " 

"  You  shall  know  it  all.  It  is  a  long  and  most  exciting 
story.  I  shall  give  it  to  you  as  soon  as  I  shall  have 
snatched  a  few  moments'  rest.  What  I  heard  and  saw  last 
night,  Don  Alonzo,  secures  the  success  of  our  movement. 
I  shall  come  to  your  house  after  breakfast  and  tell  you  all 
about  it." 

"  Do  not  hurry  away,  Senor  Bellido,"  said  Sanchez  de 
taining  him.  "  I  have  important  and  highly  gratifying 
news  to  impart  to  you.  We  have  adopted  your  plan  of  or 
ganizing  an  armed  force,  and  have  appointed  you  Com 
mander-in-chief." 

'''Thank  God,  Don  Alonzo!  not  for  my  appointment, 
but  for  the  good  sense  and  energy  of  the  Cabildo  in  pre 
paring  for  war." 

"  Of  course,  you  will  accept  the  appointment  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  refuse  ?  One  condition,  however,  I  must 
make.  Your  Grace  must  give  me  your  son,  Roberto,  for 
my  Chief-of-staff.  He  is  a  3*011  ng  God  of  war.  Can  I  have 
him?" 

"  Take  him,  my  good  friend  ;  the  boy  will  be  delighted 
with  this  distinction." 

"And  what  else  have  you  done  ?  " 


140  THE    SECRET   OP    THE    ANDES. 

"  We  have  written  letters  and  dispatched  messengers  to 
all  the  cities  of  Peru.  We  sent  them  in  hot  haste. 
Most  of  them  are  gone  !  " 

"Good!  Good  !"  exclaimed  Bellido  clapping  his  hands, 
"  yon  could  not  have  done  better.  Oh,  friend  Sanchez,  I 
never  felt  so  happy  and  so  hopeful  in  my  life  !  But  I  must 
go  home  and  get  a  little  rest  now  I  can  hardly  stand  on 
my  feet." 

"  But  what,  for  the  Virgin's  sake,  have  you  done?" 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  cruel  to  leave  your  curiosity  en 
tirely  unsatisfied ;  but  do  not  ask  me  any  questions  now. 
We  have  the  Inca  Treasure  and  the  Shyri  Toa  for  us  in 
this  great  struggle — millions  of  gold  and  thousands  of 
men." 

Old  Sanchez  raised  his  arms  in  amazement. 

"  And  now,  a  fortune  for  an  hoar's  rest.  God  be  praised  ! 
Come,  Don  Julio !  "  and  taking  Carrera's  arm,  Bellido 
walked  away,  leaving  his  old  friend  stunned  and  speech 
less. 

When  they  came  to  the  corner  formed  by  the  Plaza  and 
the  street  on  which  both  Carrera  and  Bellido  lived,  a  black 
cat  darted  across  their  path  and  disappeared  under  the 
stairs  leading  to  the  esplanade  in  front  of  the  Cathedral. 

"  I  do  not  like  this,"  remarked  Carrera. 

"  Were  I  a  Eoman,"  said  Bellido,  "  I  should  turn  back." 

"You  had  better  come  with  me,  Don  Alonzo.  Here  is 
my  house.  Stay  with  me  until  you  are  rested.  Think 
of  Mama  Kucu's  warning,  which  you  promised  to  heed." 

"  What  is  the  difference,  my  kind  friend  ?  Here  is  your 
house,  and  there  is  mine — a  difference  of  perhaps  forty  or 
fifty  paces.  I  fully  intend  to  be  cautious,  and  to  beware  of 
assassins  hereafter.  But  there  is  nothing  to  be  feared  now. 
There  is  not  a  soul  on  the  street.  The  door  of  my  house,  I 
see,  has  been  opened  already,  so  that  I  can  enter  it  without 
the  trouble  of  waking  my  porter.  The  day  has  dawned,  and 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  141 

the  sun  will  smile  upon  the  city  before  I  can  reach  my 
bed." 

"  And  yet  you  had  better  come  with  me.  Do  not  go  to 
your  own  house  now.  Mama  Rucu's  warning  has  filled  me 
with  sinister  presentiments." 

"  She  told  me  not  to  return  to  my  house  before  day 
break.  Well,  it  is  daylight  now.  Besides,  I  hope  to  get 
home  before  my  wife  awakes.  The  sky  is  bright  and  clear 
out-doors  ;  but,"  he  added  with  a  melancholy  smile,  "  I  am 
afraid  a  storm  has  been  gathering  under  my  roof.  Every 
minute  now  becomes  valuable  in  order  to  get  under  shelter 
before  it  begins  to  pour.  Good-night,  or  good-morning, 
rather,  my  young  friend." 

With  these  words  Bellido  went  to  meet  his  fate.  How 
often  great  men  are  borne  down  with  the  pettiest  cares.  The 
brain  that  had  conceived  projects  which,  had  they  suc 
ceeded,  would  have  crowned  him  with  the  unfading  laurels 
of  immortality,  now  cudgels  itself  with  the  uneasy  ques 
tion  whether  he  would  find  his  wife  asleep  or  awake.  The 
man  who  prepares  to  shake  a  whole  continent  to  its  foun 
dations,  and  to  conjure  up  a  political  earthquake  of  unheard- 
of  magnitude,  attempts  to  sneak,  on  tip-toe,  into  his  bed 
chamber,  so  as  not  to  awake  the  termagant,  at  the  mere 
thought  of  whom  his  courage  fails  and  his  wings  droop. 

Carrera  looked  after  him,  anxiously,  while  he  took  out  his 
key  to  open  a  small  door  which  had  been  cut  into  the 
main  door  of  his  house.  As  soon  as  Bellido  had  reached 
his  own  door,  he  turned  back  and  waved  his  hand  to 
Can-era,  a*  if  to  show  him  that  his  fears  were  groundless, 
and  that  he  was  now  safe  at  home.  With  this  Bellido 
entered  his  doorway,  and  Carrera  was  about  to  follow  his 
example,  when  he  was  startled  and  horrified  by  the  de 
tonations  of  arquebuses.  Two  shots  were  fired  in  rapid 
succession,  and  then  two  black  figures,  wrapped  up  in  long 
cloaks,  and  their  faces  shaded  completely  with  broad- 
brimmed,  slouched  hats,  drawn  down  to  their  eyes,  appeared 


142  THE   SECRET  OF   THE   ANDES. 

on  the  street — as  if  the  earth  had  vomited  them  forth — and 
rushed  away  from  Bellido's  house.  One  hurried  on  to  the 
left,  turning  the  next  corner,  around  which  he  disappeared. 
The  other  came  running  toward  the  Plaza,  so  that  he  must 
pass  Carrera.  The  assassin — for  instinctively  Carrera  took 
him  to  be  such — tried  to  pass  him  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  In  an  instant  Carrera  had  drawn  his  sword,  and 
made  an  excited  plunge  at  the  man.  But  Juan  del  Puente 
was  a  veteran  who  had  not  learned  the  art  of  war  in  vain. 
A  Spanish  foot-soldier,  who  had  seen  service  under  Alba 
and  the  Prince  of  Parma,  was  not  to  be  trifled  with  by  an 
inexperienced  young  Creole,  who  had  never  looked  into  the 
deadly  eyes  of  Bellona.  With  one  blow  from  his  arquebus 
he  shattered  Carrera's  sword  into  splinters,  leaving  him 
nothing  but  the  hilt,  and  sped  away  to  the  Palace,  before 
his  antagonist  could  recover  from  his  surprise.  But  Car 
rera  had  seen  enough.  He  had  seen  the  uniform  and  the 
weapon  of  the  soldier  under  the  man's  cloak,  when  he 
reached  out  to  deal  the  blow. 

At  this  moment,  Carrera  heard  loud  cries  and  wailing  in 
the  direction  of  Bellido's  house,  from  which  he  inferred  that 
the  assassins  had  done  their  work.  Disarmed,  as  he  was, 
his  pursuit  of  the  armed  murderer  would  have  been  fruit 
less.  But  some  assistance  might  still  be  rendered  to  his 
friend.  He  rushed  down  the  street  to  Bellido's  house.  The 
double  door  was  open,  and  in  the  spacious  entry  the  ill- 
fated  man  lay  on  the  stones,  with  his  head  in  the  arms  of 
his  Indian  porter,  who  knelt  over  him.  The  porter's  wife 
and  children  stood  around  them,  wringing  their  hands  and 
shrieking  and  wailing.  Soon  afterward  Bellido's  wife,  fol 
lowed  by  the  inmates  of  the  house,  appeared  upon  the 
bloody  scene,  and  beheld  her  husband  in  the  speechless 
agonies  of  death.  The  neighbors,  too,  had  been  aroused 
by  the  noise,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  street  and  the  house 
were  alive  with  horrified  spectators. 

"  A  priest !     A  priest !     Eun  for  a  priest !"  shrieked  the 


BOOK   II.      REALITIES.  143 

women,  and  some  of  the  servants  immediately  started  off 
to  procure  the  attendance  of  a  clergyman. 

"  Send  for  a  surgeon,  for  God's  sake  !"  said  Carrera. 
There  may  be  help  yet !"  This  order,  too,  was  obeyed. 

"Oh,  my  husband,  my  darling  husband,  beloved  one  of 
my  soul !  Thou  canst  not,  thou  wilt  not  die!"  shrieked 
Bellido's  wife,  who  would  have  received  him  with  a  torrent 
of  abuse  had  he  come  home  safe  and  healthy. 

"Master!  Dear  Master!  Our  poor  Master!"  wailed 
the  servants,  while  everybody  wished  to  render  assistance, 
and  nobody  knew  how. 

His  wife  knelt  on  one  side  of  the  dying  man,  while  Car 
rera  knelt  on  the  other.  Bellido  looked  at  the  young  man 
intently,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  he  could  not.  '-Give  room 
here ! "  exclaimed  Carrera.  "  Do  not  crowd  around  so 
closely  !  Bring  down  a  mattress,  so  that  we  can  carry  him 
up  stairs !  " 

Bellido  shook  his  head,  as  if  to  say  that  it  was  useless. 
Then  with  a  trembling  hand  he  motioned  those  nearest 
him  to  stand  back,  and  dipping  his  finger  into  his  own 
blood,  attempted  to  write  something  on  the  stones  with 
which  the  doorway  was  paved.  But  strength  and  con 
sciousness  soon  forsook  him  ;  a  stream  of  blood  broke  forth 
from  his  mouth,  a  convulsive  gasp,  a  last  despairing  look, 
and  all  was  over. 

Mama  Rucu's  vision  had  been  verified. 

The  Eevolution  had  lost  its  head  before  it  had  fairly  be 
gun. 

A  priest  arrived,  but  he  found  a  corpse.  A  large  num 
ber  of  people  had  congregated  before  the  house,  and  be 
gan  to  crowd  into  the  doorway,  and  even  into  the  court 
yard. 

Carrera  was  beside  himself.  His  whole  being  revolted 
against  the  cowardly  crime,  which  had  been  committed 
here,  evidently  at  the  command  of  those  in  power.  His 


144  THE   SECRET   OP   TI1E   ANDES. 

inmost  self  was  aroused.  If  he  had  ever  hesitated  to  take 
sides  in  the  impending  struggle,  he  was  determined  now. 
The  anarchy  of  the  primeval  forest  was  preferable  to  such 
a  government. 

Bellido's  widow  had  to  be  torn  away  from  the  bloody 
remains  of  her  husband  by  the  women  in  attendance,  and, 
while  the  neighbors  and  friends  were  preparing  to  place 
the  body  on  a  bier,  Carrera  stepped  before  the  door,  still 
holding  the  hilt  of  his  broken  sword.  He  had  never 
spoken  in  public;  but  his  indignation  inspired  him  with 
eloquent  words  : 

"Men  of  Quito!"  he  exclaimed,  "a  horrible  crime  has 
been  committed.  Our  friend  Bellido,  whom  we  all  loved 
and  revered,  a  member  of  the  Cabildo,  the  Procurator- 
General  of  our  Municipality,  has  been  murdered  while  en 
tering  his  own  house.  I  witnessed  the  crime  from  my  own 
door.  I  saw  the  flight  of  the  assassins  after  their  dark  deed 
had  been  committed.  One  of  them  passed  my  house.  I 
attempted  to  stop  him,  but  he  broke  my  sword  with  an 
arquebus,  and  escaped  to  the  Palace.  He  was  wrapped  in 
a  black  cloak,  but  when  he  raised  his  arm  to  parry  my 
blow  I  saw  that  he  wore  the  uniform  of  a  Spanish  soldier. 
Why  should  soldiers  have  killed  Alonzo  Bellido,  who  had 
harmed  no  one;  who  had  committed  no  wrong,  and  whose 
only  offense  consisted  in  endeavoring  to  vindicate  the 
rights  guaranteed  to  the  people  of  Peru  by  King 
Charles  I?  Soldiers  would  not  have  committed  this  dark 
deed  without  orders.  It  is  evident  that  our  friend's  assassi 
nation  had  been  commanded  by  those  whose  duty  it  should 
have  been  to  protect  the  King's  subjects  from  violence  and 
crime.  The  hand  that  struck  him  dead  is  no  more  respon 
sible  for  this  deed  than- the  arquebuses  from  which  the  two 
deadly  shots  were  fired.  The  men  who  commanded  the 
perpetration  of  this  crime  are  the  real  murderers.  But 
two  days  ago  he  was  arrested  by  order  of  the  R(>3*al  Audi 
ence,  but  liberated  by  the  people.  Now  your  friend,  your 


BOOK    II.       REALITIES.  145 

counselor,  your  advocate,  lies  before  you  a  bloody  corpse. 
Who  is  to  be  held  responsible  for  this  deed?" 

"The  Audience!  The  Audience!  The  Spanish  Com 
mander!  The  Chapetones  !"  shouted  the  infuriated  mul 
titude. 

"Let  us  have  revenge!"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices. 

"  To  the  Palace  !     To  the  Palace !"  echoed  others. 

"  Let  the  bells  be  rung,  and  the  alarm  be  sounded." 

"  To  arms  !     To  arms  !" 

"  Yiva  el  Senor  Carrera  !  Let  him  lead  us  to  our  re 
venge." 

Like  wild-fire  the  terrible  news  spread  over  the  City  of 
Quito.  The  sun  had  hardly  risen  when  drums  were  beat 
ing,  bells  were  ringing,  and,  the  people  flew  to  arms. 

By  eight  o'clock  the  streets  leading  to  the  Plaza  were 
filled  with  men  armed  with  arquebuses,  halberds,  pikes,  and 
clubs,  preparing  to  storm  the  Palace.  But  the  Palace  was 
guarded.  Valverde's  company  had  barricaded  the  doors 
smd  windows,  and  their  arquebuses  and  three  or  four  light 
pieces  of  artillery,  such  as  could  be  used  along  the  moun 
tain  roads  of  the  interior,  frowned  down  ominously  on  the 
surging  multitude  in  the  Plaza. 

The  Rubicon  was  passed;  the  die  was  cast;  the  war  had 
begun. 


BOOK  III. 
THE   REVOLUTION. 

"  Vor  dem  Sklaven,  wenn  er  die  Kette  bricht. 
Vor  dem  freien  Mensehen  erzittert  nioht." 

SCHILLER, 


BOOK  III. 

THE  REVOLUTION. 


CHAPTER  I 

PAREDES. 

THE  ringing  of  the  alarm-bells,  and  the  tumult  on  the 
streets,  awoke  Paredes,  who  had  passed  the  night  at  hisvilla. 
Rushing  down  the  declivity  of  San  Juan,  he  saw  Juan  Castro, 
accompanied  by  a  dozen  of  his  rabble  followers.  He  was 
thundering  at  the  door  of  a  house  to  arouse  its  inmates. 

"  Up,  ye  sleepy  devils !  There  is  bloody  work  to  be  done. 
Come  out  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  bring  your  crowbars  and 
pikes  !" 

"What  is  the  matter,  Don  Juan  ?"  inquired  Paredes, 
beckoning  to  the  ruffian  to  come  to  him.  Castro  at  once 
acquainted  his  patron  with  the  murder  of  Bellido  and  the 
determination  of  the  populace  to  storm  the  Palace  and  kill 
the  members  of  the  Royal  Audience. 

A  sinister  smile  glided  over  the  dark  features  of  Manuel 
Paredes.  The  Palace  to  be  stormed?  Count  Valverde  was 
his  rival  for  the  hand  of  Dolores.  Count  Valverde  would 
have  to  defend  the  Palace  ;  but  he  would  hardly  be  able  to 
hold  it.  Could  Paredes  wish  for  a  better  opportunity  to 
rid  himself  of  a  rival  ? 

"And  do  you  think,  Don  Juan,"  he  asked,  taking  Castro 
aside,  "  that  the  Audience  has  instigated  this  most  wicked 
and  outrageous  murder  ?  " 

"  Who  else  should  have  done  it,  your  Grace?  " 

"  I  have  my  own  views  of  the  matter.    Did  you  not  tell 

me  that  the  deed  was  committed  by  soldiers?  " 

(149) 


150  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"  Yes,  your  Lordship  ;  so  it  was." 

"  And  who  commands  the  soldiers  ?  " 
i     '-  Count  Valverde." 

"  Well,  do  you  suppose  that  these  soldiers  would  have 
dared  to  commit  such  a  deed  without  express  orders  from 
their  commanding  officer?" 

"  No,  but  the  Count  must  have  received  his  orders  from 
the  Audience." 

"  Yes,  but  would  he  have  carried  them  out,  if  he  did  not 
approve  of  them  ?  It  is  his  duty  to  protect  the  subjects  of 
the  King,  and  not  to  murder  them.  I  shall  give  you  my  rea 
sons  why  I  suspect  Valverde.  You  remember  the  night 
when  1  saved  you  from  the  clutches  of  the  guard?" 

"  Yes,  your  Lordship  ;  and  eternally  grateful  shall  I  be." 

"  The  Count  was  with  me  on  the  balcony.  He  was  pale 
with  rage.  He  said,  to  fellows  like  you,  no  mercy  should  be 
shown,  and  that  the  day  of  reckoning  was  sure  to  come.  He 
told  me  that  the  Viceroy  had  ordered  troops  to  Quito,  and 
as  soon  as  they  arrived,  short  work  should  be  made  of  such 
rebels.  He  said  that  he  had  prepared  a  list  of  the  most  pes 
tiferous  traitors,  and  that  your  name  headed  the  list  of  the 
commoners.  Of  the  noblemen  who  should  be  put  out  of 
the  way,  he  mentioned  that  very  same  Bellido,  who  was 
murdered  this  morning.  Now  you  see,  Juan  Castro,  how 
naturally  it  all  follows.  Count  Valverde  said  that  Bellido 
must  die,  and  Bellido  is  dead.  Count  Valverde  said  that 
Juan  Castro  must  die,  and  how  long  will  Juan  Castro 
live  ?  " 

"  He  will  live  longer  than  the  Count  Valverde,  your 
Grace,"  said  Castro,  pale  with  rage  and  apprehension. 

"  You  should  have  seen  how  anxious  he  was  that  night 
to  bring  out  his  Spanish  soldiers  and  to  fire  into  your  party. 
He  was  greatly  excited  and  censured  me  severely  for  vouch 
ing  for  you  until  next  morning.  I  almost  fear  he  added 
my  name  to  his  list  for  having  taken  your  part." 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  151 

Castro  listened  silently,  but  bis  looks  expressed  grim  de 
termination. 

"  If  be  has  not  put  my  name  down  already,"  continued 
the  wily  Creole,  uhe  will  do  so  to-day  or  to-morrow,  for  I 
do  not  intend  to  refrain  from  denouncing  this  infamous  as 
sassination,  nor  from  laying  the  blame  on  those  to  whom 
it  most  assuredly  attaches.  Nay,  more,  Juan  Castro,  if 
my  sword  can  contribute  to  revenge  this  deed,  it  shall  not 
remain  in  its  scabbard.'" 

"  Glor}7  to  your  Grace!  "  exclaimed  Juan  Castro.  t"  The 
Virgin  be  praised  that  you  are  on  the  side  of  the  people  in 
this  cause.  As  to  the  Count  Valverde,"  he  added  in  a  sig 
nificant  undertone,  "  leave  him  to  me.  His  list  will  not  be 
presented  to  the  commander  of  the  troops  from  Lima." 


CHAPTEE  II. 

SEIZING  THE  OPPORTUNITY. 

The  multitude  was  ready  to  rush  on  the  Palace,  and  dash 
itself  in  an  unorganized  attack  against  it  doors  and  win 
dows,  guarded  as  they  were  by  a  few,  but  resolute  men, 
most  of  whom  had  seen  service  on  many  a  bloody 
field.  Suddenly  the  wave  of  human  heads  turned  in  an 
other  direction.  The  cry  :  "  The  Militia  !  The  Militia !  " 
was  echoed  from  thousands  of  lips.  Those  nearest  the  Pal 
ace  asked  :  "  Where  ?"  Those  farthest  from  it  answered : 
"  In  the  Plaza  of  San  Francisco  !  "  And  consequently  to 
ward  San  Francisco  rolled  the  surging  mass  of  humanity. 

The  Militia  regiment,  "  Piehincha,"  was  drawn  up  in  the 
Plaza  of  San  Francisco,  almost  in  front  of  the  elegant  resi 
dence  of  the  Marquis  de  Solando,  who,  at  this  crisis,  was 
prudent  enough  not  to  show  himself  on  the  balcony,  or  at 
the  windows.  Dolores,  proud  like  a  Queen,  and  with  a 


152  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

coolness  and  resolution  rare  in  her  sex,  stood  on  one  of  the 
balconies,  leaning  against  the  house.  Aunt  Catita  stood 
tremblingly  behind  her  in  the  balcony  door.  Their  female 
attendants  pressed  toward  the  window,  and  implored  their 
young  mistress  not  to  expose  herself  so  daringly.  Dolores 
waved  them  back  contemptuous!}^  without  averting  her 
looks  from  the  scene  below.  The  young  officers,  Car- 
rera  among  them,  saluted  her  with  their  swords  as  they 
passed  the  house  in  order  to  take  their  places  at  the  head 
of  their  companies. 

The  regiment  Pichincha  consisted  of  the  very  best  native 
militia  material.  It  was  composed  of  municipal  and  gov 
ernment  appointees  of  lower  rank,  tradesmen,  shop  keep 
ers,  and  master  mechanics,  and  officered  by  the  nobility  of 
the  city.  Manuel  Paredes  was  its  commander.  He  had 
just  arrived,  and  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  conversation 
with  one  of  his  aids. 

About  twenty  paces  from  him,  there  was  a  group  of  offi 
cers  who  conversed  in  an  undertone,  darting  now  and  then 
looks  of  distrust  and  hatred  at  their  Colonel.  One  of  them 
was  Eoberto  Sanchez. 

"  Let  us  lose  no  time,  then,"  he  said.  "  The  moment  he 
gives  the  order  to  disperse  the  populace,  or  to  march  to  the 
relief  of  the  Audience,  we  demand  his  immediate  resigna 
tion  ;  and  if  he  refuses,  we  cut  him  down." 

"And  let  there  be  no  weakness  or  indecision  ! "  added 
another.  "A  coward  and  a  traitor  he,  who  falters  or  hesi 
tates." 

"  Shall  I  tell  Carrera?"  asked  a  third.  "  His  company 
is  in  the  center,  and  he  stands  right  in  front  of  Paredes." 

"No,"  answered  Eoberto.  "Do  not  tell  him.  I  love 
him  dearly,  and  I  feel  sure  he  will  be  with  us.  But,  brave 
as  he  is,  he  is  not  a  man  of  decision.  He  would  shrink 
from  such  bloody  work." 

"Attention  !  "  commanded  Paredes,  who  had  now  taken 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  153 

his  position  ;  and  everybody  fell  into  his  place,  except  the 
five  conspirators,  who  slowly  drew  nearer  to  their  Colonel. 

Paredes  looked  at  them  and  smiled.  He  had  understood 
them,  and  divined  that  they  were  preparing  for  a  blow  ; 
and  he  secretly  rejoiced  over  the  disappointment  he  had 
in  store  for  them.  In  the  meantime  the  populace  had  filled 
up  every  foot  of  ground  in  the  Plaza,  and  listened  breath 
lessly  for  what  was  to  come. 

"  Comrades  ! "  began  Paredes,  after  a  glance  at  the  bal 
cony  where  Dolores  stood.  "  I  have,  this  very  moment, 
received  an  order  from  the  JRoyal  Audience,  countersigned 
by  Count  Valverde,  to  lead  you1  to  the  Palace  for  the  pur 
pose  of  protecting  the  Government,  and  dispersing  the 
people  who  have  assembled  there." 

Roberto  Sanchez,  followed  by  young  Olrnos,  and  young 
Gai-cia,  drew  uncomfortably  near. 

"Comrades!"  continued  Paredes,  without  seeming  to 
notice  them.  "I  shall  not  obey  this  order  !  " 

A  wild  shriek  of  applause  and  rejoicing  at  once  rent  the 
air,  and  thousands  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs  were  waved, 
while  the  young  enthusiasts  who  were  ready  to  dispatch 
their  Colonel,  drew  back  in  blank  astonishment  and  sur 
prise. 

"  If  you  demand,"  continued  the  Colonel,  casting  a  stern 
look  at  the  young  conspirators,  who  were  not  with  their 
companies,  "that  the  order  of  the  Eoyal  Audience  be 
obeyed,  I  shall  have  to  resign  my  place  as  your  Colonel, 
and  surrender  the  command  of  the  regiment  to  the  officer 
next  in  rank." 

"No!  No  I  No!"  shouted  officers  and  men.  "Viva  el 
Colonel  Paredes  !-"  And  again  the  shout  was  taken  up  and 
carried  over  the  sea  of  human  heads,  from  square  to  square, 
until  it  reached  the  little  garrison  of  the  Palace,  who  com 
prehended  what  it  meant,  for  they  had  all  foreseen  and 
predicted  the  defection  of  the  native  militia. 

"But  I  consider  it  my  duty,"  resumed  Paredes,  as  soon 


154  THE   SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

as  the  tumult  had  subsided,  "  to  explain  to  you  the  reasons 
of  my  apparent  disloyalty  and  insubordination." 

u  Hear !  Hear !  Listen  !  Silence !  "  were  the  exclamations 
that  welcomed  this  remark. 

':  It  is  well  known  to  you  all  that  the  Koyal  Audience  has 
ordered  the  exaction  of  a  tax  from  which,  by  a  cedula  of 
King  Charles  I,  of  glorious  memory,  the  Kingdom  of  Peru 
has  been  exempted  for  one  hundred  years.  This  time  not 
having  expired,  the  imposition  of  such  a  tax  is  plainly  and 
palpably  wrong  and  unlawful.  It  has  been  said  that  eur 
Lord  the  King,  His  Majesty  Philip  II,  yielding  to  the  selfish 
advice  of  evil  counselors,  has  disregarded  the  humble  pe 
titions  and  remonstrances  of  the  Peruvian  Municipalities, 
and  commanded  His  Highness  the  Viceroy,  and  the  Au 
diences,  to  proceed  with  the  collection  of  the  Alcabala. 
Of  such  a  decision  by  His  Majesty,  however,  we  are  not 
yet  definitely  and  properly  advised.  It  may  be  so,  and  it 
may  not  be  so.  Thus  far  we  have  had  no  proof  of  it  ex 
cept  the  word  of  men  who  murder  the  King's  subjects 
whom  they  have  been  sent  here  to  protect." 

These  words  had  hardly  passed  from  his  lips  when 
another  shout  of  applause  and  approbation  rent  the  air. 
The  common  people,  especially,  cheered  wildly,  while 
Roberto  who  had  quietly  resumed  his  place  at  the  head  of 
his  company,  whispered  to  the  officer  nearest  him  :  "  The 
hypocrite !  He  is  a  traitor  at  heart  to  the  cause  his  lips 
espouse.  He  wishes  to  gain  our  confidence  now,  in  order 
to  betray  us  afterward ! " 

"Yes,  Comrades,"  continued  Paredes,  "  it  was  a  murder. 
I  can  not  call  it  by  any  other  name.  Don  Alonzo  Bel- 
lido  was  a  member  of  the  Cabildo,  which  had  elected  him 
Procurator-General.  He  was  a  man  of  great  parts  and 
unimpeachable  righteousness.  He  was  not  a  native  of  our 
city,  and  yet  the  city  had  adopted  him  as  a  favorite  child. 
He  was  bc'oved  by  the  old  and  the  young,  by  the  rich 
and  by  the  poor.  He  was  a  good  man  and  loved  justice. 


BOOK    ITI.      THE    REVOLUTION.  155 

He  had  done  no  wrong.  When  he  was  arrested  the  other 
day,  no  charge  of  any  kind  had  been  preferred  against  him. 
He  was  released  at  the  intercession  of  his  fellow-citizens, 
and  the  Royal  Audience  disclaimed  all  complicity  in  his 
arrest.  He  defended  the  rights  of  the  city  which  had 
so  lovingly  adopted  him.  And  for  this  devotion  to  your 
rights  and  interests  he  now  lies,  a  bloody  corpse,  in  his" 
house.  His  wife  has  been  deprived  of  her  husband,  his 
children  of  their  father,  the  city  of  its  best  and  truest 
friend." 

Many  of  the  men  now  melted  in  tears,  while  others 
vowed  vengeance  on  his  assassins. 

"Is  it  possible  that  His  Majesty  can  approve  of  such  a 
crime?  It  would  be  downright  treason  to  answer  this 
question  in  the  affirmative.  Are  the  men  who  command 
the  perpetration  of  such  deeds  worthy  of  being  entrusted 
with  the  powers  of  government,  the  administration  of  jus 
tice,  and  the  preservation  of  the  public  welfare?" 

"No!  No!  Down  with  them!  Kill  them!"  shouted 
the  populace. 

"  Am  I — are  we — to  receive  orders  from,  and  to  obey  the 
orders  of,  these  men,  before  they  have  convinced  us  that 
they  are  innocent  of  this  dark  deed?" 

"No!  No!  Never!" 

"For  this  reason,  Comrades,  I  shall  not  act  under  the  or 
ders  of  the  Royal  Audience  or  of  the  Count  Yalverde,  un 
til  every  atom  of  suspicion  is  removed.  At  the  same  time, 
I  do  not  intend  to  draw  my  sword  against  the  King,  as  long 
as  there  is  hope  that  he  will  disapprove  of  these  horrors 
and  grant  the  prayer  contained  in  our  petitions  and  re 
monstrances.  Under  the  circumstances,  the  only  proper 
conclusion  I  can  come  to,  as  the  Colonel  of  your  regiment, 
is  to  do  nothing.  I  shall  not  order  you  to  shoot  down 
your  friends  and  brothers  " — 

A  fresh  outburst  of  applause  now  interrupted  the 
speaker. 


156  THE   SECRET   OE   THE   ANDES. 

"And  1  can  not  and  will  not  command  you  to  attack  the 
Palace,  and  to  take  the  law  into  your  own  hands.  1,  there 
fore,  command  you  to  return  to  your  quarters  and  disperse 
to  your  homes."  And,  as  if  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word, 
he  returned  his  sword  to  its  scabbard,  and  turned  to  go. 

But  he  had  now  touched  the  popular  heart,  and  the  en 
thusiasm  he  had  aroused  knew  no  bounds.  While  the 
drums  were  beating,  and  the  companies  were  marching  off 
to  their  quarters,  Paredes  was  seized  by  brawny  arms, 
placed  on  strong  shoulders,  and  carried  in  triumph  around 
the  Plaza.  There  was  no  end  to  the  "  Yiva  el  Coronel 
Paredes !  "  That  speech  had  made  him  the  favorite  of  the 
hour.  He  had  completely  won  the  confidence  of  the  popu 
lace.  He  felt  that,  with  the  masses,  he  had  made  his  point. 
Whether  he  would  also  succeed  with  the  leaders  remained 
to  be  seen.  With  them,  he  apprehended,  his  task  would 
not  be  so  easy.  Still  he  would  try,  and  try  at  once. 

There  was  one  pair  of  eyes  which  followed  him  with  an 
expression  of  especial  delight  and  admiration,  as  he  was 
borne  along  on  the  shoulders  of  the  multitude  ;  they  were 
the  eyes  of  Dolores. 


CHAPTEK  III. 

THE  BESIEGED. 

THE  human  wave  now  rolled  back  to  the  Plaza  Mayor, 
where  the  arrival  of  Juan  Castro  and  his  followers  soon 
imparted  the  necessary  decision  and  aggressiveness  to  the 
multitude. 

Many  of  the  Militiamen  reappeared,  but  most  of  them 
without  their  uniforms.  Some  of  the  nobility,  in  the  dis 
guise  of  commoners,  joined  the  besiegers.  Others,  like 
young  Sanchez  and  Carrera,  and  their  friends,  young  Olmos 
and  Garcia,  were  too  proud  and  too  bold  to  assume  a  dis- 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  157 

guise,  and  freely  mixing  with  the  people,  gave  encourage 
ment  and  direction  to  the  surging  crowds. 

The  Government  Palace  was  built  on  a  platform,  which 
formed  what  the  Spaniards  call  a  Pretil  or  esplanade  in 
front  of  it,  rising  about  twelve  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
Plaza,  and  occupying  its  entire  western  side.  On  the 
south  side  of  the  square  stood  the  Cathedral,  and  on  the 
east  line  stood  the  house  of  the  Municipality.  The  west 
side  was  occupied  by  private  residences,  with  porticos  un 
der  them.  The  esplanade  before  the  Palace  was  reached 
by  a  flight  of  stairs  in  the  center,  and  one  at  each  end. 

Nearly  the  whole  Plaza  was  swept  by  two  pieces  of  ar 
tillery  posted  behind  a  barricade  in  the  main  door  of  the 
Palace,  which  had  been  left  open  to  enable  the  guns  to 
play  on  the  assailants.  Count  Valverde,  who  could  easily 
be  recognized  by  the  large  waving  plumes  in  his  hat, 
leaned  over  the  barricade  and  looked  contemptuously  on  the 
mob  below.  Suddenly  an  orderly  appeared  and  announced 
that  the  President  wished  to  see  him. 

Don  Manuel  Barros  de  San  Millan  awaited  him  in  the 
Audience  Chamber.  The  four  Auditors  were  with  him. 
They  all  looked  ashy  pale,  and  fluttered  about  tremblingly. 
One  shout  below  would  draw  them  lo  the  windows,  while 
the  next  yell  would  frighten  them  away  again. 

President  Barros  affected  some  composure  which  he  did 
not  possess. 

"  My  dear  Count,"  he  began,  "  what  shall  we  do?  " 

"  It  is  my  business  to  obey  your  Excellency's  orders," 
said  Valverde,  "  whatever  they  may  be.  I  have  no  sug 
gestions  to  make." 

"  JDo  you  think  they  will  dare  to  attack  the  Palace  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  will,"  answered  Valverde,  with  freezing 
politeness. 

"Then  we  are  lost !  "  shouted  Auditor  Meneses,  the  one 
who  had  recently  arrived  from  Spain. 

':  Can  you  hold  the  building?  "  continued  the  President. 


158  THE    SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

"  If  they  are  foolish  enough  to  attack  us  only  from  the 
Plaza,  I  can  repel  the  assault  easily.  If,  however,  they 
should  scale  the  courtyard  wall  in  the  rear,  they  would  hem. 
us  in  on  both  sides,  and  make  our  position  untenable." 

"  Wo  must  take  refuge  in  the  Church  of  La  Merced," 
suggested  Meneses. 

"But  how  would  your  Excellencies  get  there?  The 
streets  are  filled  with  people  who  will  watch  the  rear  en 
trances.  ]S"o  one  can  leave  the  Palace  unobserved,  at  least 
not  in  the  daytime." 

"  But,  for  God's  sake,  what  shall  we  do?"  urged  the 
President. 

"  If  your  Excellencies  had  asked  me  that  question  yes 
terday,  I  should  have  advised  to  defer  the  blow  against 
Bellido  until  after  the  arrival  of  troops  from  Lima.  As 
the  case  now  stands,  I  have  but  one  suggestion  to  make." 

"  Let  us  hear  it!  Let  us  hear  it !  "  dxclaimed  the  Audi 
tors  in  a  chorus. 

"  I  should  negotiate  to  gain  time.  I  should  even  advise 
to  issue  a  proclamation  disclaiming  all  complicity  in  the 
death  of  Bellido,  and  promising  that  the  crime  shall  be  in 
vestigated  and  the  guiltj7  parties  brought  to  justice.  I 
would  suspend  the  collection  of  the  Alcabala  until  another 
appeal  can  be  made  to  the  Viceroy  and  to  the  Court  at 
Madrid." 

"  Good  !  Good  !  "  shouted  Meneses.  "  Let  us  do  it  at 
once !  " 

"  And  if  they  refuse  to  be  pacified  ?" 

"  Then,  we  must  try  to  hold  the  Palace  until  night  sets 
in  and  then  attempt  to  escape  to  a  sanctuary,  either  in 
some  disguise,  or  by  cutting  our  way  through." 

"  And  if  it  should  not  be  possible  ?  " 

"  Then,  we  shall  have  to  put  our  trust  in  the  Lord.  I 
shall  order  my  men  to  confession  and  prepare  for  the 
worst." 

"But  there   must   be  no  worst!"  said   the   President. 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  159 

"  Let  us  negotiate !  Let  us  send  out  a  flag  of  truce.  We 
can  annul  all  our  concessions  afterward.  They  are  null 
and  void  ab  initio,  because  granted  under  duress.  Let  us 
promise  —  " 

He  could  not  finish  the  sentence.  Two,  three,  four  shots 
were  fired  in  rapid  succession,  and  were  followed  by  a  vol 
ley  accompanied  by  unearthly  yells  on  all  sides  of  the 
building.  The  President  and  the  Auditors  threw  them 
selves  on  their  knees  and  began  to  pray,  while  Valverde 
hurried  out  of  the  room  to  meet  the  emergency.  He  was 
just  in  time.  The  populace  in  the  great  square  had  made 
a  sudden  rush  for  the  esplanade  in  front  of  the  Palace  with 
the  intention  of  forcing  the  main  entrance  ;  but  they  were 
quickly  repulsed  by  the  fire  of  the  garrison  and  fled  panic- 
stricken  in  every  direction,  leaving  the  square  covered  with 
their  dead  and  wounded.  The  rapidity  of  this  success  en 
abled  the  Count  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  wall  of  the 
court  in  the  rear  of  the  Palace,  where  Juan  Castro  and  his 
men  had  nearly  effected  an  entrance.  Here,  too,  the  Count 
was  in  time,  and  drove  back  the  assailants  with  great 
slaughter.  The  struggle  was  over  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
the  Count  returned  to  the  presence-chamber  of  the  Audi 
ence  to  report  that,  for  the  time  being,  they  were  safe. 

But  the  relief  of  the  Auditors  was  of  short  duration. 
The  ilebcls  soon  returned  and  fortified  themselves  in  the 
adjoining  houses,  turning  the  seige  into  a  much  more  ef 
fective  blockade.  A  flag  of  truce  sent  out  by  the  fright 
ened  ministers  was  fired  upon  by  the  populace  and  driven 
back  to  the  Palace.  The  people  were  still  too  infuriated  to 
allow  negotiations.  The  death  of  Bellidoand  of  those  who 
had  perished  during  the  assault  had  not  yet  been  avenged. 
The  multitude  thirsted  for  a  victim  ;  and  a  victim  it  would 
have. 


160  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

• 

A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE. 

And  where  was  Carrera  during  the  hours  of  suspense 
and  anxiety,  and  the  scenes  of  tumult  and  disorder  that 
followed  the  unsuccessful  attack  on  the  Palace  ? 

Feeling  the  necessity  of  a  short  rest  after  his  sleepless  and 
fatiguing  night  and  the  overpowering  excitements  of  the 
morning,  he  had  returned  to  his  house, and  without  undress 
ing,  thrown  himself  on  his  bed.  His  rest  was  but  of  short  dur 
ation.  The  tramp  of  horses  was  heard  in  his  courtyard, 
and  immediately  afterward  Lorenzo  Viteri,theMayordomo 
of  his  uncle's  hacienda  at  Puembo,  rushed  into  the  young 
man's  bed-room  looking  pale  and  excited. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Master,  for  interrupting  your  re 
pose.  But  I  am  the  bearer  of  sad  news.  Your  poor  uncle 
lies  on  his  death-bed.  He  was  suddenly  taken  ill  this 
morning,  and  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  help." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Don  Lorenzo,  how  you  have  alarmed 
me.  How  is  it  possible!  He  was  the  picture  of  health 
when  I  saw  him  last." 

"  And  yet  you  would  hardly  recognize  him  now.  Tour 
Grace  must  come  with  me  at  once.  His  Lordship  wants  to 
see  you  before  he  dies.  He  urged  me  to  hurry,  and  com 
manded  me  to  bring  you  without  delay.  I  have  everything 
in  readiness.  I  brought  five  or  six  horses.  Before  I  came 
here  I  dispatched  a  physician  to  Puembo.  It  was  difficult 
to  get  one,  as  all  the  leeches  are  busy  with  the  wounded. 
And  now  we  must  follow.  We  must  put  the  spurs  to  our 
steeds,  if  we  want  to  find  him  alive." 

At  this  moment  Roberto  burst  into  the  room:  "Julio  !" 


BOOK    III.      THE   REVOLUTION.  161 

he  exclaimed,  "  the  Cabildo  has  sent  for  you.  You  must 
come  with  me  at  once." 

Carrera  informed  him  of  the  sad  message  he  had  just 
received.  "  I  can  not  go  with  you  now.  I  must  be  off  this 
very  minute." 

"  But,  by  all  the  Saints  of  Heaven,  yon  can  not  disregard 
the  order  of  the  Cabildo.  Your  uncle  is  a  most  excellent 
man,  but  he  has  only  one  life  to  lose,  while  here  the  lives 
of  hundreds  are  at  stake." 

"  Roberto  !  He  is  my  benefactor — my  second  father — to 
whom  I  owe  everything." 

"But  suppose  you  find  him  dead.  What  good  would 
your  coming  do  him  then,  while  not  a  minute  must  be  lost 
here  ?  We  have  staked  our  lives  in  this  contest,  and  we 
must  either  succeed  or  die  on  the  scaffold.  Will  you  sacri 
fice  all  your  living  friends  for  the  sake  of  a  dying  uncle? 
And,  after  all,  he  may  not  bo  so  very  ill ;  the  Cabildo  will 
not  detain  you,  and  perhaps  in  an  hour,  or  even  less  than 
an  hour,  you  may  be  ready  to  go." 

"Young  Master,"  said  Lorenzo,  "it  is  the  dying  man's 
last  and  only  wish  to  see  his  nephew.  Do  not  deprive  him 
of  this  consolation." 

"I  must  go,  Roberto,  I  must." 

"And  Toa?"  asked  Sanchez,  taking  his  friend  aside. 

"You  must  tell  her  what  has  called  me  away." 

"  How  could  I  ?  Where  should  I  find  her,  whom  nobody 
can  see?" 

"  Write  her  a  letter  in  my  name,  giving  her  all  the  par 
ticulars,  and  take  this,"  he  said,  kissing  the  silver  moon 
she  had  given  him,  and  then  handing  it  to  Roberto.  "  This 
piece,"  he  whispered  to  him,  "  will  put  you  in  communica 
tion  with  her.  Show  it  to  Mariano,  or  any  other  reliable 
Indian,  and  he  will  take  your  letter,  and  return  with  her 
answer.  And  now,  farewell.  May  the  Virgin  protect  you !" 

"  O,  Julio!"  said  Roberto,  pressing  him  to  his  heart. 
"You  go,  and  perhaps  we  shall  never  meet  again." 


162  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"Do  not  be. childish,  Roberto.  In  a  d.-jy  or  two  I  shall 
return  to  you  ;"  and  before  Roberto  could  sit  down  to  write 
the  letter  to  Toa,  he  heard  the  tramp  of  the  horses  that  bore 
away  his  friend.  It  was  their  last  meeting  on  this  side 
of  the  grave. 

The  pen  was  not  Roberto's  forte.  He  wrote  with  diffi 
culty,  and  had  spoiled  several  sheets  of  paper,  before  lie 
succeeded  in  inditing  the  following  epistle,  full  of  sins 
against  the  then  recognized  method  of  spelling  the  lan 
guage  of  Castile : 

"  I  regret  to  inform  your  Royal  Highness  that  my  friend, 
Don  Julio  de  Carrera,  has  been  called  away  to  Piiembo,  by 
the  sudden  and  probably  fatal  illness  of  his  uncle  and  bene 
factor.  He  left  with  a  heavy  heart,  but  he  hopes  to  return 
soon,  and  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  your  Royal  High 
ness.  His  departure  was  so  sudden  as  not  to  allow  him  the 
time  to  write.  He,  therefore,  requested  me  to  communicate 
these  facts  to  your  Highness,  and  to  tell  your  Highness  how 
it  grieves  him  to  be  taken  away  from  Quito.  In  fulfilling 
the  commission  of  my  friend,  I  avail  myself  of  the  oppor 
tunity  to  place  my  own  services  at  the  disposal  of  your 
Highness.  Whenever  your  Highness  should  be  in  need  of 
a  stout  heart,  a  strong  arm,  and  a  good  sword,  your  High 
ness  has  but  to  remember  your  humble  servant,  who  kisses 
your  hands*  ROBERTO  SANCHEZ." 

'  After  finishing  and  re-reading  this  document,  and  con 
gratulating  himself  on  his  unexpected  clerical  success,  he 
called  Mariano. 

"  Dost  thou  know  the  Shyri  Toa,  my  boy?" 

"  No,  Senor  !  " 

"  Well,  conldst  thou  find  the  Shyri  Toa  ?" 

"  Nobody  can  find  the  Shyri  Toa,  Senor,"  said  Mariano. 

*  The  usual  Spanish  mode  of  concluding  a  letter. 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  163 

"  But  I  have  a  letter  of  great  importance  here,  which 
must  be  delivered  to  the  Shyri  Toa." 

"  If  your  Gi-ace  will  tell  me  where  to  find  her,  I  shall  de 
liver  the  letter." 

"  If  1  knew  where  to  find  her,  I  should  deliver  it  myself, 
man.  You  must  find  her  for  me." 

"  It  is  impossible,  Master.  She  is  far,  far  away  from 
Quito." 

"  These  Indians  are  not  without  strong  points,"  thought 
Roberto.  Then  he  said  aloud  :  "  Mariano  !" 

"  Seller  !  " 

"Look  at  this!" 

The  effect  was  magical.  In  an  instant  Mariano  was  on 
his  knees,  and,  with  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks,  he 
kissed  and  petted  the  little  silver  ornament  which  Roberto 
had  handed  to  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  now,  my  boy?"  asked  Roberto,  good 
n  at  u  redly. 

"  The  letter  !  the  letter! "  exclaimed  the  boy.  "  Give  me 
the  letter,  Master,  and  the  Shyri  Toa  shall  have  it  this  very 
hour.  And  Mariano  is  your  Lordship's  slave.  Command 
me,  send  me  wherever  your  Grace  desires.  Mariano  will 
go  to  the  death  for  your  Grace."  And  again  he  kissed  the 
silver  moon,  and  then  reverentially  returned  it  to  Roberto. 

"Now,  listen  !  "  said  the  young  gentleman.  "  If  I  am 
not  here  when  thou  returnest,  thou  wilt  find  me  in  the 
House  of  the  Municipality." 


1£4  THE    SECRET   OP    THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VALVERDE. 

IT  was  a  long,  long  day,  but  at  last  it  drew  to  a  close. 
The  soldiers  in  the  Palace  were  served  with  eatables  and 
wine.  And  as  the  Revolutionists  persisted  in  their  inac 
tivity,  the  vice  of  Spain  demanded  its  rights.  Dice  rattled 
under  the  field-pieces  ;  cards  were  shuffled  under  the  ar 
quebuses,  and  many  a  time  the  amount  was  won  and  lost 
that  had  been  paid  for  the  life  of  Bellido. 

Tears  and  despair  in  the  house  of  mourning  ;  endless 
discussions  in  the  session-chamber  of  the  Cabildo  ;  thirst 
for  revenge,  coupled  with  indecision  and  timidity  among 
the  surging  crowds  in  the  streets  ;  abject  cowardice  and 
helplessness  in  the  upper  story  of  the  Palace,  and  reckless 
ness  of  life  or  death  among  the  soldiers  below,  who  gam 
bled  on,  never  pausing  to  consider  whether  they  would  live 
to-morrow  to  enjoy  the  money  for  which  they  played  with 
such  intensity  :  such  were  the  scenes  during  which  the 
hours  wore  on,  until  the  sun  had  disappeared  behind  Mount 
Pichincha,  and  the  day  gave  way  to  twilight,  and  the  twi 
light  to  the  shades  of  night. 

"  Juan  del  Puente,  are  you  a  Christian  ?" 

"  Why,  by  Santiago  !  "  replied  the  man  who  had  just  re 
turned  from  a  tour  of  inspection,  "  your  Excellency  has  put 
this  question  to  a  man  whose  whole  life  has  been  devoted 
to  the  war  for  our  holy  religion." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  that.  But  do  you  feel  a  craving 
for  its  consolations  ?  You  have  reddened  your  hands  in 
Christian  blood  to-day.  It  is  true  you  have  only  obeyed 
orders  ;  yet  it  must  weigh  on  your  mind.  We  are  in  a 
very  desperate  strait.  The  probabilities  are  against  us,  at 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  165 

least  against  some,  and  perhaps  all  of  us.  Do  you  not  feel 
a  necessitj  to  unburden  your  conscience  by  confessing  your 
sins?" 

"  But,  even  if  I  did,  Seller  Commander,  what  could  I  do? 
Our  Chaplain  has  not  come  to  the  Palace  with  us.  He  was 
in  bed  when  we  left  the  barracks,  and  said  he  would  follow 
soon.  But  this  insurrection  came  upon  us  like  a  thunder 
bolt,  and  it  seems  the  old  gentleman  was  afraid  to  trust 
himself  to  the  maddened  crowds." 

"This  is  a  sad  state  of  affairs,  Juan  del  Puente.  "We 
must  open  a  communication  with  the  Convent  of  La  Merced, 
or  with  La  Compania.  They  might  send  us  priests,  and  I 
do  not  think  the  mob  below  would  prevent  their  entrance." 

"  Yes,  but  how  will  our  messenger  get  there?  They 
would  tear  any  man  to  pieces  who  should  venture  out  of 
this  inclosure." 

"  The  only  difficulty  will  be  to  get  out.  Once  at  the 
Convent,  our  messenger  might  come  back  in  the  disguise 
of  a  monk  with  the  other  friars." 

"  But,  perhaps  he  would  not  come  back.  He  might  con 
clude  to  remain  in  the  Convent.  That  would  not  be  fair, 
your  Excellency.  We  are  all  together  now,  and  no  man 
should  have  a  better  chance  for  his  life  than  his  comrades." 

"But  we  might  decide  by  lot  who  shall  go.  Then  the 
chances  would  be  even." 

"That's  true,"  answered  Del  Puente,  who  could  not  have 
resisted  an  appeal  to  his  gambling  propensities. 

"  There  are  two  ways  of  doing  it.  Either  let  our  mes 
senger  try  to  reach  the  Convent  in  disguise,  or  we  might 
make  a  sortie  with  all  the  men  we  can  spare,  push  on  to 
the  Convent,  throw  our  man  into  the  Church,  and  then  fall 
back  to  the  Palace.  At  the  Convent  our  man  might  learn 
how  matters  stand  outside,  and  whether  we  can  hope  for  a 
favorable  reaction.  We  might,  through  one  of  the  friars, 
open  communication  with  our  friends  in  the  city,  and  send 
messages  to  other  garrisons." 


166  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"  In  this  case,  however,  I  must  warn  your  Excellency 
against  trusting  the  Friars  of  Mercy.  Most  of  them  are 
natives,  and  I  am  told  they  all  sympathize  with  the  .Rebels. 
It  would  be  better  to  appeal  to  the  Jesuits,  who  stand  by 
the  King." 

"  1  have  considered  what  you  say;  but  it  will  be  tenfold 
more  difficult  for  us  to  reach  the  Chui'ch  of  the  Jesuits, 
than  to  get  to  La  Merced.  Moreover,  the  Superior  of  the 
Mercedarios  is  a  Spaniard,  whom  1  know,  and  whom  I  can 
trust.  From  the  very  fact  of  their  sympathy  with  the 
Rebels,  I  infer  that  they  will  be  allowed  to  come  here  to 
administer  the  sacraments  of  religion  to  our  men.  You 
are  now  fully  informed  as  to  my  views,  Juan  del  Puente. 
Go,  then,  call  the  sergeants  and  some  of  your  best  men  to 
gether,  and  ascertain  their  preferences.  Report  to  me  as 
soon  as  you  are  ready.  In  the  meantime,  I  shall  notify  the 
Royal  Audience  to  prepare  their  communications  to  our 
friends  outside." 

In  about  half  an  hour  Juan  del  Puente  returned  to  his 
commander. 

"  Our  men  are  ready,  as  I  knew  they  would  be,  to  carry 
out  the  plan  of  your  Excellency  ;  and  they  humbly  present 
a  few  details  which  they  beg  your  Excellency  to  consider. 
We  are  all  of  the  opinion  that  it  is  impossible  for  any  man 
to  escape  from  the  Palace  unobserved.  For  this  reason  we 
all  favor  the  idea  of  a  sortie,  which  will  lead  to  a  stampede 
outside.  We  might  drop  our  messenger  in  the  disguise  of  one 
of  the  rabble,  as  we  emerge  from  the  palace.  He  would  run 
along  with  the  fugitives  and  be  looked  upon  as  one  of  the 
mob,  or  remain  entirely  unnoticed.  We  might  pursue  the 
mob  as  near  La  Merced  as  we  can,  without  cutting  off  our 
retreat." 

'•  Very  well,  Juan  del  Puente.  Shall  the  messenger  be 
selected  by  lot?" 

"As  a  matter  of  course,  your  Excellency." 

"Every  name  to  be  put  in  the  urn  ? 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  167 

"Comrades  in  life,  comrades  in  death;  ever}7  name  to  be 
put  in  ;  your  Excellency  alone  to  have  the  option  whether 
or  not  to  withhold  your  name." 

"Can  you  read  or  write,  Juan  del  Puente?" 

"  No,  Senor  Commander." 

"Who  can?" 

"  Idelfonso  Coronel  can  read  a  little,  but  he  can  not  write. 
Diego  Narvaez  can  write." 

"  Then  let  him  and  my  adjutant  do  the  writing  ;  and, 
as  mine  would  be  the  greatest  danger  if  I  should  be  se 
lected,  let  my  name  be  put  in  the  urn  along  with  the  others." 

"  Your  Excellency's  commands  shall  be  obeyed. 

A  little  table  was  placed  in  the  lower  corridor,  and  by 
the  flickering  light  of  a  torch,  the  soldier,  Diego  Narvaez, 
and  Yalverde's  aid,  Guzman  de  Tapia,  wrote  down  each 
name  on  a  slip  of  paper,  rolled  up  the  slips,  and  put  them 
in  the  hat  of  Ildefonso  Coronel.  Every  man  who  was  not 
on  guard  stood  around  the  table.  The  writing  had  not 
proceeded  very  far,  when  the  betting  commenced. 

"  Five  to  one  that  my  name  will  not  be  drawn  !" 

"  Ten  to  one  that  my  name  will  not  come  out  !M 

"  If  anyone  will  give  me  the  odds  of  twenty,  1  bet  that 
my  name  will  be  drawn." 

"  Taken  !"  shouted  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Who  shall  draw  ?" 

"Juan  del  Puente !     He  is  the  ugliest  of  all  !" 

A  shout  of  laughter,  a  yell  of  acclamation,  and  Juan  del 
Puente  bent  forward  to  draw.  The  lurid  flame  of  the 
torch  threw  an  unsteady  and  fantastic  light  on  the  powder- 
begrimed  countenances  of  those  rough  and  reckless  men, 
as  they  pressed  around  the  table  to  hear  the  decision. 

"  Shake  up  that  hat  once  more !"  shouted  Ildefonso  Cor 
onel,  distrustful  to  the  last. 

"  Silence !"  commanded  Guzman  de  Tapia,  Valverde's 
Adjutant. 

Juan  del  Puente  had  drawn  a  name,  and,  as  he  was  un- 


168  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

able  to  read,  ho  handed  it  over  to  the  Adjutant  who  opened 
the  paper,  read  it  and  turned  pale.  Silentty  he  handed  it 
to  Diego  Narvaez,  who  had  assisted  him  as  scribe.  He, 
likewise,  was  so  struck  with  consternation  that  he  neglected 
to  make  the  announcement,  but  continued  to  gaze  upon  the 
paper  with  a  blank  stare. 

"  Well,  why  do  n't  you  read  ?" 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  The  name  !  The  name  !  "  shouted  the  men. 

Diego  Narvaez  moiioned  them  to  be  silent,  and  then  read 
with  a  faltering  voice  : 

" His  Excellency,  the  Count  Valverde!" 

A  long  silence  followed,  during  which  not  even  a  loud 
breath  was  drawn.  The  men  looked  at  each  other  in 
amazement.  They  were  not  prepared  for  this  result.  At 
last,  the  Count  emerged  from  the  darkness  of  the  court 
yard,  where  he  had  witnessed  the  scene  unobserved. 

"  Comrades,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  danger  which,  for 
your  sake,  1  would  not  brave.  The  verdict  of  fate  is  a 
righteous  one.  This  great  task,  upon  the  success  of  which 
our  present  safety  and,  perhaps,  our  eternal  salvation  may 
depend,  belongs  to  me.  I  swear  to  you,  by  the  most  holy 
Trinity,  that  if  I  do  reach  the  church,  I  shall  not  stay 
there.  I  shall  either  return  to  the  Palace,  or  you  may 
pray  for  1113*  soul.  Do  you  believe  me?" 

"  Yes  !  Yes  !  Long  live  our  noble  commander  !" 

"And  now  to  our  work.  Senor  Guzman  de  Tapia  will 
remain  in  command  of  the  Palace.  He  will  b6  my  succes 
sor,  if  I  should  be  killed  outside.  Juan  del  Pueute  will 
command  the  sortie.  He  will  succeed  the  Sefior  de  Tapia 
if  he  should  fall.  And  should  Juan  del  Puente,  too,  meet 
with  a  soldier's  death,  let  Diego  Narvaez  be  his  successor. 
For  the  present,  let  no  man  despair.  Each  one  of  us  is  a 
match  for  twenty  of  the  rabble  outside,  and  help  will  corne, 
must  come,  if  we  can  hold  out  for  a  few  days.  And  now  I 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  169 

shall  withdraw  to  prepare  my  disguise.  Sefior  de  Tapia 
and  Juan  del  Puente,  assume  your  commands." 

"  Thirty  volunteers  for  Juan  del  Puente  !  "  commanded 
Tapia.  Nearly  twice  that  number  rushed  forward  ;  the 
necessary  selections  were  made  in  an  instant,  and  the 
chosen  ones  drawn  up  in  line. 

"  Let  three  men  carry  axes,  and  bring  baskets  for  five  !" 
commanded  Juan  del  Puente. 

"What  for?"  asked  Guzman  de  Tapia. 

"  There  is  a  bakery  on  our  way  to  La  Merced.  We  may 
not  find  it  open.  Therefore,  the  axes  ;  and  the  baskets  are 
for  what  we  shall  find.  We  have  enough  to  eat  for  a  day 
or  twTo,  but  this  thing  may  last  longer,  and  it  may  be  well 
to  lay  up  a  crust  for  the  future." 

"  Viva  Juan  del  Puente  !"  shouted  the  soldiers. 

"  Diego  Narvaez,"  commanded  Tapia,  "  take  twenty  men 
and  follow  Juan  del  Puente  outside  to  protect  his  rear. 
Keep  up  a  fire  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  rush  to  his 
aid  if  he  should  be  pressed  too  hard.  And  now  God  and 
the  Yirgin  be  with  you  all." 

'•'  Santiago  !  Santiago  !"  shouted  the  men. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   SALLY. 

JUAN  DEL  PUENTE  was  right.  Not  a  man  could  have  es 
caped  from  the  Palace  unobserved.  Fires  had  been  kin 
dled  all  around  the  building,  so  as  to  light  up  its  walls  and 
windows.  The  Revolutionists  had  posted  themselves  in 
the  adjoining  houses,  and  guarded  every  street  leading  to 
the  Great  Square.  Almost  the  entire  male  population  of  the 
city  was  out,  and,  although  the  turbulent  crowds  of  armed 
and  unarmed  men  did  not  venture  into  the  immediate  vi- 


170  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

cinity  of  the  Palace,  they  completely  blockaded  all  the 
avenues  by  which  it  could  be  reached.  A  large  quan 
tity  of  pitch  had  been  collected  in  the  Square  of  La.  Mer 
ced,  from  which  men  were  busily  preparing  torches. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  doors  in  the  wall  inclosing  the  Pal 
ace  court  was  thrown  wide  open,  and  Juan  del  Pucnte  is 
sued  forth  at  the  head  of  his  thirty  dare-devils,  opening  a 
destructive  fire  into  the  dense  ranks  of  the  citizens  in  the 
street  leading  to  La  Merced,  which  was  but  two  or  three 
squares  from  the  Palace.  His  party  was  followed  immedi 
ately  by  the  men  of  Narvaez,  who  advanced  in  an  opposite 
direction,  and  opened  fire  on  the  men  who  had  collected 
under  the  shelter  of  the  arcades  and  porticos  lining  the 
Great  Square.  By  these,  and  by  the  men  stationed  in  the 
windows  of  houses,  the  fire  of  the  soldiers  was  returned,  and 
not  without  effect ;  but  in  the  street  the  old  story  of  regulars 
against  an  armed  mob  repeated  itself.  Completely  taken 
by  surprise,  the  crowds  nearest  the  Palace  broke  and  fled, 
sweeping  along  with  them  even  those  who  would  have 
stood  their  ground  and  offered  resistance. 

Count  Valverde,  in  the  ragged  disguise  of  a  man  of  the 
populace,  soon  caught  up  with  the  fugitives,  and  ran  for 
ward,  as  if  in  deadly  fear,  toward  the  Church  of  La  Mer 
ced.  His  own  men  came  charging  along,  shouting  wildly 
for  the  King.  Their  shouts  were  replied  to  by  the  garrison 
inside,  who  supported  them  with  acclamations,  with  the 
blowing  of  trumpets,  and  the  incessant  beating  of  drums. 
For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  force  of  defenders 
had  sallied  forth  from  the  Palace.  The  panic-stricken  cit 
izens  shrieked  and  yelled,  the  women  screamed  in  the  balco 
nies,  and  the  reports  of  the  arquebuses  spread  terror  in 
every  direction. 

The  bakery  was  still  open,  and  had  been  doing  a  brisk 
business.  When  the  rush  came,  the  baker  attempted  to 
close  his  door,  but,  a  blow  from  the  ax  of  one  of  the  sol 
diers  threw  it  wide  open,  and  felled  the  baker  to  the  floor. 


BOOK   III.      THE   REVOLUTION.  171 

Four  or  five  soldiers  rushed  in  and  filled  their  baskets  with 
what  the  shop  contained. 

The  panic  of  the  besiegers,  however,  was  not  of  long 
duration.  The  smallness  of  the  attacking  party  soon  be 
came  evident.  Before  the  House  of  the  Municipality  the 
more  disciplined  forces  of  the  insurgents,  consiting  mainly 
of  the  Militiamen  and  old  soldiers,  had  been  massed,  in 
order  to  defend  it  against  a  possible  attack  of  the  lio}-alists. 
A  strong  detachment  of  these  men  was  soon  in  motion,  and 
advanced,  sheltered  by  the  porticos  under  the  private  resi 
dences,  and  opened  fire  on  the  twenty  of  Narvaez,  driving 
thembackto  the  sally-port.  With  abolddash,  theinsurgenta 
might  have  captured  the  men  of  Narvaez  and  cut  off  the  re 
treat  of  Del  Puente,  or  forced  themselves  along  with  the  lat- 
ter's  men  through  the  open  gate.  But,  unfortunately,  they 
hesitated  at  the  end  of  the  sheltering  portico,  and  confined 
themselves  to  an  exchange  of  shots.  But  even  thus  the 
position  of  Narvaez  became  critical,  and  Guzman  de  Tapia, 
leaning  over  the  walls,  ordered  him  back  into  the  Palace 
court,  while  the  bugle-horn  blew  the  signal  of  retreat  to 
Juan  del  Puente.  It  was  high  time.  Juan  Castro  had  i*al- 
lied  his  men,  after  the  first  rush  of  the  fugitives  had  swept 
by,  and,  gliding  along  the  houses,  endeavored  to  take  Juan 
del  Puente  in  the  flank,  and  drive  him  into  an  intersecting 
street,  where  he  would  have  been  overpowered.  But  the 
veterans  were  too  quick  to  be  caught.  Snatching  up  their 
wounded,  and  dragging  them  along,  they  succeeded  in  pass 
ing  the  dangerous  crossing,  before  Castro's  men  had  fairly 
come  up.  These  latter  could  not  follow  Del  Puente  too 
closely,  as  the}-  would  have  exposed  themselves  to  the  fire 
of  their  own  friends  under  the  porticos. 

Two  of  the  soldiers  were  left  dead  outside,  and  three  were 
brought  back  wounded,  while  the  loss  of  the  citizens  was 
much  heavier.  The  royal  messenger  had  been  set  adrift, 
and  five  baskets  full  of  bread  formed  a  welcome  addition 
to  the  scanty  stores  of  the  garrison. 


173  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

The  engagement  had  not  lasted  over  ten  minutes.  Yal- 
verde  would  have  reached  the  church  in  safety,  could  he 
have  hurried  on.  But  the  fire  of  his  own  men  who  had  lost 
sight  of  him,  compelled  him  for  a  moment  to  turn  into  an 
intersecting  street.  When  he  again  ventured  into  the 
street  leading  to  the  convent,  he  found  himself  in  the  midst 
of  Castro's  men.  Only  a  short  distance  now  separated  him 
from  the  sanctuary,  the  door  of  which  stood  open. 

Fortunately,  the  men  of  Castro  were  engaged  in  a  coun 
cil  of  war. 

"  If  those  fools  under  the  porticos  had  not  kept  up  their 
fire,"  said  one,  "  we  might  have  captured  the  Spanish  dogs." 

"  I  can  not  understand,  why  they  came  out,"  said  an 
other. 

"It  was  bread  they  wanted,"  said  Castro.  "They  have 
plundered  the  bakery.  Thunder  and  lightning  !  They  have 
nothing  to  eat.  They  can  not  hold  out  much  longer." 

"  Who  is  that  fellow?  "  asked  another,  pointing  to  Val- 
verde,  who  had  glided  by,  apparently  unconcerned. 

"  It  is  a  strange  face.     I  have  never  seen  it  before." 

Castro  turned  around,  and  looked  at  the  Count,  who 
now  walked  boldly  towards  the  church  door.  "  I  do 
not  know  the  fellow,"  said  the  ruffian,  "  and  yet  1  think  I 
must  have  seen  that  face  before."  With  these  words,  he 
started  to  follow  the  Count,  who  doubled  his  steps  as  he 
drew  near  to  the  church.  He  saw  that  he  had  been  ob 
served,  yet  he  would  not  arouse  suspicion  by  running,  as 
long  as  it  was  not  absolutely  necessary  for  his  safety. 
Castro,  accompanied  by  sojne  of  his  gang,  soon  overtook 
him,  and  passed  him  just  as  he  entered  the  sheltering  edi 
fice.  The  pursuers  entered  the  church  with  him.  The 
building  was  but  dimly  lit,  but.  by  the  glare  of  the  fires  on 
the  streets,  Castro  looked  him  straight  in  the  face.  The 
Count  had  trimmed  his  long  moustache,  the  pride  of  the 
Spanish  nobleman,  and  cut  his  hair.  He  had  used  white 
powder  and  the  actors  brush  to  give  himself  the  appear- 


BOOK   III.      THE   REVOLUTION.  173 

ance  of  an  old  man.  Yet  such  a  disguise  would  not  bear 
close  inspection  by  the  watchful  eye  of  hate.  As  the  Count 
doffed  his  hat  on  entering  the  sacred  edifice,  Castro  became 
assured  that  he  had  recognized  his  man. 

"  The  coward  !  "  he  muttered,  but  loud  enough  to  let 
Yalverde  hear  it.  "  He  has  deserted  his  men  to  save  his 
own  miserable  life." 

Valverde  winced  under  this  taunt,  but  he  would  not  be 
tray  himself.  He  had  an  important  mission  to  perform. 
He  carried  letters  to  persons  outside,  who  must  not  be  com 
promised.  He  had  to  despatch  messengers  to  Lima  and 
Pasto.  Everything  depended  on  his  cautiousness  and  dis 
cretion.  Aifec! ing  therefore  the  utmost  unconcern,  he  re 
paired  to  the  darkest  corner  of  the  church,  and  prostrating 
himself  before  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands,  and  seemed  lost  in  meditation  and  prayer. 

"  Could  1  be  mistaken  ?  "  muttered  Castro.  "  Impos 
sible  !  .Rodriguez !  Watch  that  man.  And  you  fellows, 
guard  every  outlet  of  the  church  and  convent.  That  man 
must  be  the  Spanish  commander.  If  he  has  not  come  to 
take  refuge,  he  is  here  for  mischief.  We  must  watch  him 
closely." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   HORRORS   OP    NEUSZ. 

THE  Count  had  gained  the  church.  But  how  to  commu 
nicate  with  the  Superior,  whom  alone  he  could  trust? 
What  if  the  Superior  should  be  absent  from  the  Convent? 
Some  men  were  kneeling  in  the  church  and  praying;  but 
in  vain  did  Valverde  strain  his  eyes  to  penetrate  the  dark 
ness,  in  order  to  discover  a  friar.  People  came  and  went, 
but  he  saw  no  friar.  The  precious  minutes  glided  away, 
and  brought  no  means  of  communication.  Should  Valverde 


174  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

venture  into  the  Convent  ?  He  did  not  doubt  that  he  was 
watched.  Of  course  he  was  safe  in  the  sanctuary  ;  but 
should  he  endanger  his  purpose  by  attracting  attention? 
At  last  he  saw  the  whites  robes  of  the  Friars  of  Mercy. 
Now  was  the  time.  He  arose  and  approached  them.  The 
unsteady  light  of  a  taper  burning  upon  an  altar  trembled 
upon  their  faces.  Thank  the  Lord  of  Hosts!  Valverde 
recognized  the  venerable  form  of  his  countryman,  the  Su 
perior. 

"  Reverend  Father  !  "  he  said,  "  I  beg  to  speak  to  you." 

"  I  can  not  listen  to  you  now,  my  Son.  My  duty  calls 
me  hence." 

"  But  I  must  say  three  words  to  your  Reverence.  It  is  a 
matter  of  the  utmost  importance." 

"  Speak  to  Father  Alphonso,  my  Son.  He  will  attend  to 
you." 

"  What  I  have  to  say  is  for  the  ear  of  your  Reverence 
alone,"  persisted  Valverde,  and  then  he  added  in  a  low 
whisper  :  "  For  the  sake  of  the  King  listen  to  me  !" 

The  Superior  now  looked  closely  at  the  Count,  and  turned 
pale  as  he  recognized  his  features. 

<:  Father  Alphonso!"  ho  said,  "proceed  without  me!  I 
must  speak  to  this  man."  And,  turning  to  Valverde,  he 
added  :  "  Follow  me." 

Through  the  darkness  of  the  church,  the  Superior  led 
him  to  a  door,  which  communicated  with  the  corridors  of 
the  Convent.  Less  than  seventy  years  before,  a  great  tem 
ple  of  the  Sun  had  stood  on  the  spot  now  occupied  by  the 
church  and  monastery  of  La  Merced.  The  Christian  edi 
fice  had  arisen  upon  the  ruins  of  the  Pagan  temple.  The 
Sun  of  the  heathen  had  paled  before  the  Cross.  The  luster 
of  the  emerald  and  borla  had  vanished  before  the  splendor 
of  the  Castilian  crown.  The  bronze  of  the  Peruvian  had 
given  way  to  iron,  out  of  which  the  fetters  for  the  conquered 
race  were  forged. 

Silently  the  twain  walked  through  the  lonely  halls  of  the 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  175 

Convent,  the  stillness  of  which  formed  a  striking  contrast 
with  the  tumult  outside.  Their  steps  resounded  on  the 
cold  stone  pavement  of  the  massive  corridors.  At  last  the 
Superior  opened  a  door,  which  led  to  his  cell.  It  was  scant 
ily  furnished  in  the  rude  style  of  native  workmanship,  and 
contained*  only  a  large  wooden  crucifix  fastened  to  the  wall, 
a  tahle,  a  few  chairs,  a  bookcase,  and  several  pictures  of 
Saints  and  the  Virgin.  A  side  door  communicated  with 
a  smaller  cell,  in  which  the  bed  of  the  Superior  stood.  The 
Superior  himself  was  an  old  man,  whose  originally  dark 
complexion  had  been  darkened  still  more  by  exposure  to 
many  climates.  He  was  not  very  learned,  but  zealous  and 
enthusiastic,  a  forerunner  of  the  ecclesiastical  age  which 
was  soon  to  follow  the  military  age,  in  which  our  story  is 
laid. 

Not  a  word  had  been  spoken  until  now.  The  Superior 
closed  an'd  bolted  the  door,  then  turned  around  and  em 
braced  the  Count,  who  devoutly  kissed  his  hand. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  countryman,  how  did  you  come 
here?" 

"  Father,"  answered  Yalvcrde,  "  you  are  a  priest,  a  friend, 
and  a  Spaniard.  I  come  to  you  as  to  my  confessor,  my 
countryman,  and  a  loyal  subject  of  the  King  of  Spain.  To 
come  to  you,  I  ordered  that  sally  to  be  made.  There  are 
other  souls  that  need  your  spiritual  assistance,  and  the 
King's  cause  demands  your  aid."  And  now  Valverdc 
briefly  narrated  the  occurrences  in  the  Palace,  and  ac 
quainted  the  Superior  with  the  hopes  entertained  by  the 
besieged  to  communicate,  through  his  instrumentality,  with 
their  friends  outside.. 

Uneasily  and  with  painful  suspense  the  monk  listened 
to  his  young  friend.  "  My  dear  Son  !  "  he  began,  after  Yal- 
verde  had  finished,  "  what  you  ask  of  me  is  a  matter  of  ex 
treme  difficulty,  not  because  I  shrink  from  personal  dan 
ger,  but  because  I  am  destitute  of  all  means  to  help  you. 
The  brethren  of  our  convent  are  all  natives,  and,  I  am 


176  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

sorry  to  say,  strongly  sympathize  with  the  cause  of  their 
countrymen  outside.  I  am  their  Superior,  and  they  must 
obey  me:  but  they  dislike  me,  perhaps  hate  me,  for  being 
a  Spaniard.  They  could  not  be  intrusted  with  messages  to 
our  friends.  They  would  surely  betray  us.  Moreover,  it 
is  questionable  whether  we  could  communicate  with  any 
body.  The  houses  of  those  who  are  known  to  be  in 
sympathy  with  the  cause  of  the  King  were  to  be  sacked 
this  morning.  The  mob  began  with  the  house  of  the  Mar 
quis  de  Solando.  The  timely  intercession  of  Manuel  Pa- 
redes  alone  prevented  its  destruction.  At  his  request,  Mu 
nicipal  Guards  were  detailed  to  protect  the  houses  of  the 
suspected;  but,  while  protecting  them,  they  hold  their  in 
mates  as  prisoners,  allowing  access  to  no  one  excepting 
those  who  are  well  known  to  be  on  the  side  of  the  insur 
rection." 

"And  where  is  the  Marquis  ?" 

"  He  is  said  to  have  left  the  city." 

"  Could  you  not  dispatch  couriers  to  the  Viceroy  and  to 
the  commander  of  our  garrison  at  Pasto  ?" 

"  Where  is  the  native  whom  I  could  trust,  and  if  I  were 
to  send  Spaniards,  they  would  be  seized,  searched,  and  per 
haps  murdered." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  our  messengers  should  carry 
letters.  Verbal  commissions  would  be  sufficient.  The  in 
surrection  has  not  yet  passed  beyond  the  limits  of  the  city. 
Once  away  from  Quito,  our  messengers  might  travel  ahead 
of  the  news  they  carry." 

"  I  shall  try,  my  Son,  1  shall  try.  But  destroy  these  let 
ters.  No  papers  must  be  found.  We  know  what  they  con 
tain."  And,  with  Valverde's  acquiescence,  he  burned  the 
hastily  written  notes  which  the  latter  had  brought. 

"And  is  there  no  hope,  Father,  that  our  friends  outside 
will  rise  and  come  to  the  rescue  of  the  King's  Ministers  in 
the  Palace  ?" 

"  None — at  least  not  now  !     We  must  put  our  faith  in  the 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  177 

Lord,  and  trust  that ';  me  will  bring  a  reaction.  Our  friends 
here  are  lew,  and  these  are  cowed,  frightened,  terrified. 
Help  must  come  from  abroad." 

"  Then  what  is  to  become  of  us  in  the  Palace?" 

"  I  have  heard  that  it  is  not  the  intention  of  the  Cabildo 
to  murder  the.  Ministers.  They  are  to  be  made  prisoners 
and  kept  as  hostages." 

"  And  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  soldiers  and  myself?" 

"  1  do  not  know,  my  Son  ;  but  you  are  here  now.  You  are 
within  the  walls  of  the  sanctuaiy.  The  Church  will  pro 
tect  you.  Powerless  outside,  I  am  still  the  Superior  here. 
And  even  our  native  Friars  would  not  allow  you  to  be 
harmed  within  this  sacred  inclosure." 

"  No,  Father,  I  can  not  stay  here.  I  must  go  back  to 
the  Palace." 

"  You  are  raving,  my  Son." 

"  No,  Father,  there  is  no  alternative.  My  duty  is  plain. 
Do  you  think  I  should  desert  my  comrades  in  the  hour  of 
need?  I  promised  to  return,  and  return  I  shall  or  die. 
Why  should  I  live  a  disgraced  man,  a  deserter,  who  ran 
away  from  his  post  and  abandoned  the  most  important  and 
critical  command  a  military  officer  ever  held  at  Quito  ?  To 
stay  here  would  be  the  destruction  of  all  my  hopes  in  life, 
and  a  disgraceful  end  of  an  honorable  career.  I  can  not, 
must  not  stay." 

"  But  how  will  you  return  ?" 

"  You  will  send  some  of  your  brethren  to  confess  my  men. 
The  Eucharist  will  be  carried  in  procession  to  the  Palace, 
and  even  those  rebel  fiends  will  not  undertake  to  stop  it. 
Why  should  not  I  join  the  procession  in  the  disguise  of 
a  Friar  ?  But,  first  of  all,  you  must  hear  what  I  have 
longed  to  tell  you.  I  want  your  opinion,  your  advice,  Fa 
ther.  I  am  sadly  troubled  in  mind.  I  am  not  a  coward. 
God,  whose  holy  battles  I  have  fought,  knows  I  am  not ; 
and  yet,  Father,  I  fear.  It  is  not  death  at  the  cannon's  mouth 
I  fear  ;  but  it  is  a  prediction  which  haunts  me.  A  horrible 


178  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

prediction  twice  made  to  me  and  by  different  persons  at 
different  times,  but  almost  in  the  same  words." 

"Explain  yourself,  my  Son  !"  said  the  Monk.  "I  am 
listening.  The  Virgin  knows  how  anxious  I  am  to  help 

you." 

"  It  was  about  six  years  ago,  in  summer,  that  I  lay,  un 
der  the  Prince  of  Parma,  before  Neusz,  a  fortified  town  in 
the  Low  Countries.  It  was  defended  by  a  Dutch  com 
mander,  named  Kloet.  He  was  a  most  godless  heretic 
and  infidel,  but  I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  a  man 
of  almost  superhuman  bravery.  Even  the  Prince  re 
garded  him  with  unbounded  admiration.  But,  Father, 
inx>rder  to  be  brief — for  time  presses,  and  I  can  not  stay 
long — I  shall  not  refer  to  the  particulars  of  that  memorable 
siege.  One  of  the  churches  of  Neusz  was  dedicated  to  St. 
Quirinus.  His  bones  were  kept  there  in  a  holy  shrine,  and 
had  been  left  untouched  even  by  the  pestiferous  Calvinists, 
who  held  the  town  against  us.  But  on  Santiago's  Day, 
when  our  whole  camp  celebrated  the  festival  of  the  patron 
saint  of  Spain,  the  wretches,  to  mock  us  as  it  were,  entered 
the  church,  took  out  the  remains  of  the  Saint,  and,  after 
reviling  and  defiling  the  blessed  relics,  burned  them  in  the 
open  square." 

"  O,  horrible !  How  can  human  beings  so  far  forget 
themselves/'  exclaimed  the  Monk. 

"  But  that  was  not  all.  They  had  captured  two  of  our 
brave  boys,  and,  infuriated  by  their  master,  the  devil,  they 
roasted  them  on  the  same,,  fire  which  had  consumed  the  sa 
cred  relics." 

"  The  fiends  !" 

"  This  latter  deed  they  denied  subsequently,  but  the  burn 
ing  of  the  relics  they  admitted  when  we  questioned  them. 
Well,  we  took  the  town  by  storm,  and  scenes  of  carnage 
followed,  which  may  appear  horrible  to  many,  but  which 
were  no  novelty  to  men  who  had  been  engaged  in  so  long 
and  fierce  a  war.  Our  men  thirsted  for  revenge  for  the 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  179 

cruel  murder  of  our  comrades  and  the  fiendish  indignity 
inflicted  upon  the  relics  of  the  saint.  The  Prince  of  Parma 
wished  to  spare  the  commander,  and  was  about  to  give  or 
ders  to  that  effect ;  but  Archbishop  Ernest,  to  whose  do 
minions  the  town  belonged,  was  with  the  Prince,  and  pro 
tested  against  such  leniency  as  blasphemous.  To  gratify 
him,  the  orders  to  save  Kloet  were  not  given.  He  was  to 
be  left  to  his  fate,  whatever  it  should  be." 

Valverdc  paused  for  awhile,  as  if  to  collect  his  thoughts, 
wiped  the  cold  perspiration  from  his  forehead,  and  then 
continued: 

"It  was  my  company  that  first  reached  the  Captain's 
house,  and  I  was  swept  along  by  the  current.  Officers, 
you  know,  are  powerless  on  such  occasions.  During  the 
sack  of  a  city  the  common  soldier  will  listen  to  no  com 
mand.  Nor  did  I  wish  to  give  any  commands.  I  was 
burning  with  indignation  myself;  I  was  six  years  younger 
than  now,  and  hated  the  Calvinists  as  heartily  as  they 
hated  us.  They  had  murdered  our  men ;  now  it  was  out 
turn  to  get  even  with  them.  Such  is  the  fate  of  war! 
My  men  found  the  Dutch  commander  in  his  bed.  He  was 
wounded.  His  wife  and  daughter  attended  him.  When  I 
entered  the  room,  the  soldiers  had  thrown  a  rope  around 
his  body  by  which  they  dragged  him  from  his  couch. 
'  Do  n't  hang  him  ! '  said  one.  '  It  is  too  easy  a  death  for 
the  damnable  heretic.'  'Burn  him!  Burn  him  !' shouted 
others,  '  as  he  burned  the  remains  of  the  saint  and  our  poor 
comrades.'  Kloet  denied  all  complicity  in  these  occur 
rences,  and  begged  for  a  soldier's  death ;  but  our  men 
were  inexorable.  They  concluded  to  make  an  example  of 
him  ;  and  stripping  him  completely,  they  covered  him  with 
a  thick  coat  of  pitch,  and,  by  a  chain  drawn  around  his 
chest,  hung  him  out  of  his  own  window,  and,  lighting  the 
pitch,  consigned  him  to  the  flames." 

Yells  in  the  street  below  interrupted  the  speaker.     He 


180  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

started  from  his  seat  and  listened  intently;  but,  as  the 
noise  soon  subsided,  he  resumed  his  narrative: 

"  While  the  soldiers  were  engaged  in  their  preparations 
for  the  execution  of  the  doomed  heretic,  his  wife  and 
daughter  clung  to  my  knees  and  implored  me  to  interfere. 
They  appealed  to  me  as  a  soldier,  as  a  gentleman,  as  a 
Christian,  to  save  him,  or  at  least  to  let  him  die  a  soldier's 
death.  Both  of  them  were  beautiful  women,  and  the  pallor 
which  overspread  their  countenances,  together  with  their 
long,  disheveled  hair  gave  them,  almost  an  unearthly  ap 
pearance.  They  offered  any  ransom,  their  own  lives 
or  honor,  to  save  the  man.  My  heart  had  been  steeled  to 
such  scenes;  yet  I  was  strangely  moved.  Their  appeals 
were  most  piteous ;  but  I  had  heard  such  appeals  before. 
One  thing,  however,  troubles  me  to  this  day,  although  I 
did  not  heed  it  much  at  the  time;  both  of  them  offered 
to  become  Catholics  if  I  would  save  their  husband  and 
father." 

"  This  was,  indeed,  a  critical  case,"  interrupted  the 
monk. 

"  But  what  could  I  do  ?  The  Archbishop,  his  Sovereign, 
demanded  the  death  of  the  man.  The  Prince  had  given 
his  consent.  The  soldiers  clamored  for  it.  The  great 
crime  that  had  been  committed,  and  for  which  he,  as  the 
commander  of  the  place,  was  responsible,  had  to  be  avenged. 
Perhaps,  even  if  I  had  tried,  I  should  have  been  powerless 
to  save  him.  1  might  have  saved  Kloet  for  the  moment,  but 
he  would  have  been  executed  all  the  same  afterward. 
Hence,  I  should  only  have  compromised  myself,  without 
averting  his  doom." 

"  I  really  do  not  see  what  you  could  have  done,  my  Son — 
under  these  circumstances." 

"  When  fire  was  set  to  the  coat  of  pitch  with  which  they 
had  covered  him  ;  when  the  first  shrieks  of  the  victim  were 
heard  in  the  room,  the  scene  changed.  The  wife  re 
leased  my  knees  which,  until  then,  she  had  held.  At  the 


BOOK   III.      THE   REVOLUTION.  181 

same  time,  she  tore  her  daughter  away  from  my  feet,  and, 
holding  the  fainting  girl  with  one  arm,  she  pointed  to  me 
with  the  other.  I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  of  her 
face.  I  still  see  her  terrible  eyes,  starting  from  their  sock 
ets,  and  rolling  like  those  of  a  maniac.  In  her  white  night 
dress,  with  her  long  hair  streaming  down  over  her  back 
and  shoulders,  she  looked  like  a  ghost ;  and  her  voice, 
which  had  turned  hollow  and  shrieking,  sounded  as  if  it 
came  from  the  grave.  '  Not  another  word  of  imploration, 
Daughter,'  she  said.  '  No  more  !  No  more  !  No  appeal  for 
mercy,  for  honor,  for  humanity,  to  that  stone  !  God  is 
just !  God  will  avenge  !  Yes,  the  veil  that  covers  the  fu 
ture  is  rent  asunder  before  my  eyes.  My  gaze  pierces 
through  a  long  vista  of  years.  I  can  see  your  end,  Span 
iard,  yours — and  it  will  be  that  of  my  husband.  Do  you 
hear?  He  is  a  prisoner  of  war,  whom  you  should  protect 
from  the  murderers  under  your  command.  But  there  is 
justice;  there  will  be  retribution.  Yes,  terrible  retribution. 
Do  you  hear  his  shrieks?  Such  will  be  your  shrieks,  Span 
iard  !  Do  you  see  his  agony  ?  Mark  it  well,  for  such  will 
be  your  agony.  Like  him,  you  shall  die  in  the  hands  of  in 
furiated  enemies.  Biting  fire  shall  lick  the  skin  from  your 
flesh  and  the  flesh  from  your  bones;  and  howling  and  re 
joicing  fiends  shall  dance  around  you  and  mock  you,  while 
death  creeps  upon  you  slowly,  and  preceded  by  what  shall 
seem  to  you  eternities  of  most  excrutiating  pain.  Look  at 
him!  Hear  him!  Remember  him!  His  place  will  be 
yours!  It  is  you!  It  is  you!  It  is  you!'  With  these 
words  she  broke  into  a  hoarse  and  terrible  laugh,  and  sud 
denly  fell  swooning  upon  the  floor,  while  the  horrifying 
cries  of  her  burning  husband  gradually  changed  into  hol 
low  and  unearthly  moans." 

"  How  pale  and  agitated  you  look,  my  Son."  said  the 
Friar.  "Let  me  give  you  a  glass  .of  Xerez  ;  you  seem 
faint  and  weak." 

"  No,  Father,  let  me  finish.     Several  of  my  men,  who 


182  THE    SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

had  listened  to  the  fearful  imprecation,  now  attempted  to 
seize  her  and  bury  their  swords  in  her  bosom.  '  She  shall 
never  wag  that  wicked  tongue  again,'  said  one  of  them,  as 
he  lifted  up  his  arm  to  strike.  But  I  stopped  him.  '  No. 
men,'  I  said,  '  let  us  return  good  for  evil.  They  are  but 
women.  Let  our  war  be  against  the  men.'  1  ordered  the 
ladies  to  be  conveyed  to  the  Prince  of  Parma,  and  told  one 
of  my  men,  whose  influence  over  the  others  was  known  to 
me,  that  I  should  hold  him  personally  responsible  for  the 
two  women,  until  the  Prince  had  decided  what  should  be 
done  with  them.  The  Prince,  as  I  told  you,  Father,  was 
enthusiastic  in  his  admiration  of  Kloet,  and  he  protected 
his  widow  and  daughter.  Weeks  afterward,  I  saw  her 
again.  She  was  completely  broken  in  spirit,  and  meek  as 
a  child.  J  told  her  that  I  had  saved  her  life  and  her 
daughter's,  and  that  I  regretted  my  inability  to  save  her 
husband;  and,  you  may  call  it  wrong  or  superstitious, 
Father,  I.  begged  her  to  take  back  her  curse.  It  was  diffi 
cult  to  make  her  comprehend  what  I  meant.  She  did  not 
seem  to  remember  what  she  had  said  ;  and,  when  I  re 
peated  her  prediction,  she  shook  her  head  and  answered  : 
4  Spaniard,  what  1  said  to  you  after  my  husband  was  hung 
out  of  the  window,  I  do  not  know.  The  burning  match  is 
the  last  I  remember.  Then  consciousness  deserted  me.  If 
I  said  anj'thing  after  that,  it  was  not  I  that  spoke;  it  was 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  that  spoke  through  me.  How  can  I 
take  back  what  I  did  not  say  ?  I  have  forgotten  it  all,  but 
the  Lord  will  remember  it.  He  will  be  as  merciful  to  3-011, 
as  you  were  to  my  husband.'  " 

A  long  pause  followed,  during  which  the  Friar  seemed  to 
meditate  over  the  narrative,  and  to  prepare  his  opinion. 

"But  this  is  not  all,  Father.  Her  prediction  haunted 
me.  I  have  never  been  able  to  forget  the  scenes  of  that 
night ;  and  when  my  friends  at  Court  procured  me  the  op 
portunity  of  trying  my  fortunes  in  America,  I  gladly  wel 
comed,  and  promptly  accepted  it.  The  voyage  across  two 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  183 

oceans,  the  change  of  scenes  and  associations,  the  peaceful  re 
pose  of  a  residence  in  the  Andes,  had  gradually  succeeded  in 
effacing  the  dreaded  reminiscence,  when  the  prediction  was 
again  and  most  forcibly  brought  back  to  my  mind  by  an 
almost  literal  repetition." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?"  exclaimed  the  Friar.  "A  repetition 
here  in  America !" 

"Here  in  Quito." 

"In  Quito — you  amaze  me!  BJT  whom,  and  where?" 

"  By  Mama  Eucu,  the  Indian  witch." 

"Mama  Eucu  !  And  why  did  you  go  to  see  Mama  Eucu? 
Why  should  you  have  resorted  to  witches  and  sorcerers  for 
that  comfort  and  light  which  true  religion  alone  can  give?" 

"•  It  was  altogether  unsought,  Father.  I  had  never  heard  of 
her — I  had  never  seen  her  before.  I  never  dreamt  of  go 
ing  to  her  or  consulting  her.  I  had  gone  in  seai-ch  of  the 
Inca  Treasure  with  a  Creole  friend.  We  went  to  a  spot 
where  we  had  good  reasons  to  presume  the  existence  of  a 
subterranean  passage.  We  discovered  the  passage,  and 
just  as  we  were  in  the  act  of  entering  it,  Mama  Eucu  ap 
peared  on  the  mountain  side  above  us,  and  wildly  and  men 
acingly  said  something  in  the  Quichua  language  which  I 
did  not  understand.  After  she  was  gone,  my  friend  ordered 
one  of  his  Indians  to  enter  the  passage,  but  the  Indian  re 
fused,  and  would  suffer  the  severest  punishment  rather 
than  obey.  My  friend  explained  that  Mama  Eucu  had 
filled  the  minds  of  her  Indian  listeners  with  superstitious 
fears.  To  show  the  groundlessness  of  such  superstitions,  1 
entered  the  passage  and  explored  it.  I  learned  afterward 
that  Mama  Eucu's  imprecations  had  been  hurled  against 
the  first  man  who  should  enter  the  passage.  As  I  entered 
first,  the  curse  attaches  to  me.  It  is  the  same,  identically 
the  same,  as  the  imprecation  of  the  Dutch  commander's 
wife ;  only  with  this  difference — Mama  Eucu  fixed  the  time 
when  it  should  come  to  pass." 

The  monk  clapped  his  hands  in  astonishment. 


184  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

"Before  the  rains  of  winter  shall  again  descend  upon 
the  plain  of  Afia  Quito,  I  shall  die  in  the  hands  of  infuri 
ated  enemies ;  and  biting  fire  shall  lick  the  skin  from  my 
flesh,  and  the  flesh  from  my  bones.  We  are  now  in  the 
beginning  of  the  dry  season.  If,  therefore,  these  prophe 
cies  are  to  be  verified,  it  will  be  during  this  summer.  Still, 
I  should  have  risen  above  what  you  will  denounce  as  a 
groundless  superstition.  But  here  comes  this  revolution. 
1  am  the  commander  of  the  garrison.  I  am  expected  to 
hold  the  Palace  with  a  handful  of  men  against  thousands. 
I  have  repulsed  the  first  attack  with  great  slaughter. 
Other  attacks  will  follow.  The  traitors  are  vowing  venge 
ance  for  the  death  of  Bcllido.  and  those  of  their  number 
who  perished  during  the  assault  and  our  sally.  What  will, 
what  must  my  fate  be  when  they  have  overpowered  our 
little  garrison  ?  They  look  upon  me  as  the  author  of  those 
deaths,  and  I  shall  be  the  victim.  It  all  follows  so  natu 
rally,  Father.  The  problem  has  worked  itself  out  with 
the  irresistible  logic  of  fate.  The  toils  are  closing  around 
me,  and  there  is  no  escape.  For  this  reason  I  have  come 
to  you,  Father,  come  to  you  because  you  are  a  Spaniard,  a 
countryman,  and  because  you  are  a  priest.  The  time  is 
flying  fast.  I  must  hasten  back  to  the  Palace.  The  moments 
are  precious.  Hear  my  confession,  grant  me  your  absolu 
tion,  and  enlighten  me,  advise  me,  guide  me  as  to  the  great 
burden  that  weighs  upon  my  soul." 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  185 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

NEGOTIATIONS. 

Dona  Carmen  Duchicela  sat  in  an  easy-chair.  The 
Cacique  of  Ibarra  and  Prince  Cundurazu  stood  at  her  side. 
Toa  was  in  an  adjoining  room  reading  a  Letter  which  Mar 
iano,  Carrera's  Indian  servant,  had  just  handed  to  her. 

"  Yes,  Don  Sebastian,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  shall  return 
to  Cacha  as  soon  as  my  preparations  are  completed.  This 
is  a  sinful  place,  inhabited  by  a  godless  and  murderous 
people.  I  long  for  the  quietness  of  my  country  retreat, 
where  I  can  worship  God  in  peace,  and  without  being 
frightened  by  the  din  of  battle  in  the  streets,  and  by  the 
howling  of  licentious  mobs." 

"  My  dear  Lady,"  said  the  Cacique  of  Ibarra.  "  Do  not 
leave  us  yet.  God  knows  whether  we  shall  ever  meet 
again." 

"  We  shall  meet  again,  Don  Sebastian,  if  you  are  a  Chris 
tian.  We  shall  meet  where  there  will  be  no  separation, 
and  no  earthly  troubles,  my  friend." 

"  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  should  shorten  your  visit.  If 
you  go,  I  must  go  likewise  ;  for  my  remaining  after  your 
departure  might  arouse  suspicion,  and  expose  me  to  dan 
gers.  And,  yet  I  had  wished  to  remain  longer." 

"  Go,  Don  Sebastian  !  Go  !  The  sooner  the  better.  Go 
home  to  your  wife  and  your  children.  Not  if  you  go,  but 
if  yon  stay,  will  you  be  in  danger.  Believe  me,  Don  Se 
bastian,  your  projects  are  visionary,  and  can  only  lead  to 
destruction." 

In  the  meantime  Toa  had  read  the  letter,  with  all  the 
expressions  of  angry  impatience.  After  she  had  read  it, 
she  began  to  pace  the  room  endeavoring  to  compose  her- 


186  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

self.  As  last  she  stopped  before  Mariano,  who  awaited  her 
orders  in  reverential  submissiveness.  "  Wait  outside,  my 
good  man,  until  I  send  for  thee  !  "  She  then  went  to  the 
door  leading  to  the  other  room,  and  said:  "Auntie,  will 
you  excuse  Prince  Cundurazu  for  a  moment?" 

The  old  man  at  once  hurried  into  her  presence  :  "  What 
is  the  pleasure  of  my  Queen?" 

"Bead  this!" 

He  read,  and  then  silently  handed  buck,  the  letter.  "  flc 
leaves  me,"  said  Toa,  "  when  I  want  him  most.  But  yes 
terday  I  declared  my  love  for  him,  and  to-day  he  is  gone." 

':  He  is  a  Viracocha,  Shyri !  " 

"  What  dost  thou  advise  now,  my  fatherly  friend  ?  " 

"  Thy  question  comes  late,  Shyri." 

"  Was  it  not  thy  advice,  man,  that  I  should  marry  a  Vir 
acocha,  to  make  him  King  of  our  land  ?  " 

u  Yes,  Shyri,  but  the  selection  was  thine  own." 

"And  thou  hadst  approved  it !  " 

"It  was  not  my  province,  unasked  to  gainsay  the  choice 
of  my  Qneen." 

"Was  he  not  the  only  Viracocha  who  had  ever  drawn  a 
sword  in  defense  of  one  of  our  race  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Shyri,  his  impulses  were  right,  but  didst  thou  test 
his  metal?  The  mica  may  glitter,  but  is  it  gold?  The 
vulture  may  soar  over  the  highest  cliff,  but  is  he  a  condor? 
Thou  shouldst  have  chosen  a  man  of  iron.  Dost  thou  know 
that  this  youth  is  not  a  toy  of  wax?  The  writer  of  this  let 
ter  is  a  man  of  iron.  Take  him!  The  great  Viracocha 
whom  they  murdered  this  morning,  had  vouched  for  him." 

"O  Cundurazu!  Wise  old  man!  With  all  thy  wisdom 
and  experience,  thou  dost  not  know  the  heart  of  a  woman. 
Dost  thou  think  it  is  like  a  gold  chain  that  I  can  take  away 
from  one  man's  neck,  to  hang  it  around  another's?" 

'•  The  heart  of  common  women,  I  may  not  know,  Shyri. 
I  loved  but  one  woman,  and  thy  grandfather  Atalumlpa 
took  her  for  himself.  But  thou  art  a  Queen,  and  a  Queen's 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  187 

love  by  right,  belongs  to  her  people.  If  the  cause  of  thy 
people  demands  a  transfer,  or  a,  sacrifice  of  thy  affections, 
thou  must  and  wilt  make  the  sacrifice." 

Toa  was  silent.  Were  not  the  words  of  Cundurazu  but 
the  echo  of  what  she  had  told  Carrera  on  their  return  from 
the  mountain  ?  "And  yet."  she  said  after  a  pause,  "  he  may 
love  me.  His  uncle  is  his  benefactor-" 

"If  his  filial  duty  and  gratitude  proved  stronger  than 
his  love,  why  should  not  thy  Queenly  duty  prove  stronger 
than  thy  affections  ?" 

"  We  shall  discuss  this  hereafter.  What  is  thy  advice 
now  ?" 

"  Send  for  his  young  friend.  He  offers  his  services,  and 
we  need  them.  The  death  of  the  great  Viracocha  has  dis 
turbed  our  plans.  We  must  have  some  one  to  communicate 
with  the  Cabildo.  Let  young  Sanchez  be  sent  for." 

"  But  where  shall  I  receive  him  ?  We  must  not  compro 
mise  Dona  Carmen,  nor  abuse  her  confiding  kindness.  I 
shall  meet  him  on  the  mountain." 

"  No,  Shyri,  the  mountain  is  too  far  distant.  We  must 
meet  him  somewhere  near  the  Cabildo.  Meet  him  in  the 
Church  of  San  Francisco,  where  we  can  escape,  in  case  of 
treachery,  through  the  vaults  and  the  ravines  under  them." 

Mariano  found  young  Sanchez  in  the  Municipality  Build 
ing,  with  the  defense  of  which,  against  a  possible  attack 
from  the  Palace,  he  had  been  intrusted.  His  heart  beat 
faster  when  he  learned  that  Queen  Toa  desired  to  see  him. 
"  Where  is  the  Shyri  Toa?"  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  take  your  Grace  to  her,"  replied  the  wily  Indian. 

"And  whither  must  we  go  ?" 

"  This  I  am  not  to  tell,  Master.  Have  the  kindness  to 
follow  me." 

"  Wait  for  me.  I  shall  be  back  presently."  Thus  say 
ing,  he  rushed  to  his  father,  who  was  in  conversation  with 
Francisco  de  Olmos,  Diego  Nuiiez  del  Arco,  Juan  de  Lon- 


188  THE    SECRET  OP    THE    ANDES. 

dono,  and  other  members  of  the  Cabildo,  with  whom  he 
had  already  discussed  the  problem  of  an  alliance  with  the 
mysterious  Indian  Queen. 

"  Father,  I  am  to  see  the  Shyri  Toa.  What  shall- 1  tell 
her  on  behalf  of  the  Municipality  ?" 

"  Oho  !  "  exclaimed  Londouo.  "  So  you  are  to  see  her! 
"Well,  gentlemen,  would  it  not  be  a  capital  stroke  of  policy, 
to  seize  that  mythical  personage,  and  make  her  divulge  the 
secret  of  the  treasure  ?  We  could  do  better  with  her  money 
than  with  her  Indians." 

"  Senor  Londono !  "  thundered  the  young  man,  "  this 
would  be  infamous ! " 

"  Seiior  Koberto,"  replied  the  other,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  "  such  language  requires  castiga- 
tion." 

"  Peace !  Peace!  "  interposed  the  bystanders. 

"  Son  !  "  said  old  Sanchez.  "  Curb  thy  heedless  tongue, 
and  learn  how  to  speak  to  thy  betters.  Excuse  the  boy, 
friend  Londofio.  He  is  too  hasty  and  impulsive.  I  beg 
your  Grace's  pardon,  in  his  name.  Still,  it  strikes  me  that 
we  should  gain  nothing  by  such  an  attempt,  while  we 
should  throw  away  all  the  advantages  that  might  be  se 
cured  by  coming  to  an  understanding  with  that  Queen  of 
Mystery." 

"  I  defer  to  your  wiser  counsels,  Senor  Sanchez,"  said 
Londono.  "  What  I  said,  was  merely  a  hasty  suggestion, 
thrown  out  for  the  sake  of  discussion.  Yet,  allow  me  to 
advise  caution  with  reference  to  the  Indians.  We  might 
unchain  an  element  of  fierceness,  that  we  could  not  curb 
again.  These  Indians  will  demand  concessions  ;  and  such 
concessions  will  conflict  with  the  interests  of  some  of  our 
best  men.  Such  concessions  might  prove  ruinous  to  the 
Encomenderos,*  and  we  might  thereby  raise  up  enemies, 
where  we  are  now  surest  of  friends." 

*  Landed  proprietors  to  whom  Indians  had  been  assigned,  or,  to  use 
the  term  from  which  the  system  derived  its  name,  "  recommended  for 


BOOK   III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  189 

"I  admit,"  answered  Sanchez,  "  that  the  problem  is  one 
of  great  difficulty.  As  I  understood  from  Bellido,  the  In 
dian  Queen  offers  us  her  treasures  and  the  services  of  her 
people.  What  docs  she  demand  in  return,  and  how  much 
are  we  prepared  to  grant  ?" 

"And  how  do  we  know  that  she  will  really  put  us  in  pos 
session  of  treasures  ?"  continued  Londono.  "And  what 
can  her  Indians  do?  To  speak  frankly,  I  do  not  think 
they  would  be  of  much  service  to  us  in  case  of  war." 

"  Gentlemen;"  said  young  Sanchez,  "  Queen  Toa  waits  to 
receive  me.  If  you  have  nothing  to  propose,  1  shall  can 
didly  inform  her  that  it  is  useless  to  negotiate  with  the 
Cabildo.  Is  it  your  pleasure  that  I  shall  carry  this  mes 
sage  to  her  ?" 

And  again  an  excited  discussion  arose,  which  led  to 
nothing,  and  which  was  several  times  interrupted  by  Ro 
berto  Sanchez,  who  insisted  that  he  must  go.  It  became 
painfully  evident  that  the  master-spirit  of  the  Revolution 
was  gone,  and  that  there  was  no  one  to  replace  him.  At 
last  it  was  agreed  that  Roberto  should  confer  with  the 
Shyri,  and  obtain  from  her  an  authorized  statement  of  her 
demands. 

In  the  darkest  recesses  of  the  Church  of  San  Francisco, 
Roberto  Sanchez  bent  his  knee  to  the  Indian  Queen,  and 

the  purpose  of  being  instructed  in  the  Christian  religion."  In  return 
for  this  great  benefit,  which  implied  nothing  less  than  the  salvation 
of  their  souls,  the  Indians  had  to  till  the  lands  of  their  proprietors, 
or  to  requite  the  religious  and  spiritual  benefits  which  they  were  sup 
posed  to  receive,  by  work  in  the  factories  or  mines.  The  Encomende- 
ros  did  not  trouble  themselves  much  (hardly  at  all,  if  we  are  to  be 
lieve  the  noble  monk,  Las  Casas,  supported  as  he  is  by  the  intrinsic 
probability  of  the  charge)  for  the  souls  of  their  Indians,  and  as  to 
whether  or  not  they  received  the  necessary  Christian  instruction ; 
but  were  very  anxious  to  enforce  the  fullest  performance  of  the 
price  with  which  the  Indians  had  to  purchase  their  eternal  "salvation." 
"  Being  recommended,"  therefore,  for  the  purpose  of  Christian  in 
struction,  was  but  another  name  for  being  consigned  to  slavery. 


190  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

swore  upon  the  cross  of  his  sword  that  whatever  cause  of 
distrust  she  might  have  against  others,  HE  would  be  her 
loyal  and  faithful  cavalier,  her  trusty  messenger  to  the  Ca- 
bildo,  and  the  defender  of  the  rights  of  her  race.  How 
different  his  blunt  and  emphatic  declaration  sounded  from 
the  vague  and  uncertain  language  of  Can-era.  Roberto's 
words  were  music  to  the  ears  of  old  Cundurazu;  and  the 
enthusiastic  nature  of  Toa  responded  sj-mpathetically  to 
the  stormy  impulsiveness  of  the  youth  who,  regardless  of 
consequences  and  the  prejudices  of  the  ago,  threw  himself 
into  the  breach  for  a  cause  of  which,  until  then,  he  had 
never  thought.  But  it  was  not  the  wrongs  of  her.  race, 
it  was  the  silvery  voice  and  captivating  grace  of  Toa,  and 
the  romantic  mystery  which  surrounded  her,  which  carried 
him  away.  And  as  he  listened  to  her  pathetic  and  burn 
ing  eloquence,  and  felt  the  charm  of  her  magnetic  pre 
sence,  the  image  of  Mercedes,  longing  and  weeping  for 
him,  in  her  lonely  house  in  the  suburbs,  faded  from  his 
memory  and  paled  in  his  heart. 

"  I  beg  Your  Highness'  pardon  for  this  plain  statement 
of  objections  raised,  not  by  me,  but  by  certain  members  of 
the  Cabildo.  It  was  urged  that  the  Indians  were  indiffer 
ent  fo  our  cause  or  unable  to  comprehend  it.  No  Indian, 
it  was  claimed,  participated  in  the  attack  on  the  Palace.  ' 

"And  why  should  they  sacrifice  themselves  fora  cause 
which  does  not  concern  them?"  answered  Toa.  "Make 
your  cause  their  cause,  and  you  shall  see  what  they  can  do." 

"  It  was  the  Seflor  Londono  who  asserted  that  they 
would  not  be  able  to  render  us  an}'  valuable  assistance." 

"I  can  prove  their  ability  this  very  night.  Do  you 
want  me  to  take  the  Palace?  I  can  doit.  Let  the  Ca 
bildo  but  say  the  word  and  the  Palace  shall  be  in  your 
hands.  But  not  a  drop  of  Indian  blood  shall  be  spilled,  if 
1  can  prevent  it,  until  we  have  secured  a  guaranty  of  our 
rights.  What  ability  have  the  Viracochas  shown  in  this 
assault  on  the  Palace?  They  allowed  themselves  to  be 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  191 

driven  like  llamas  on  the  mountain  heaths.  If  the  Viraco- 
chas  are  in  earnest,  why  do  they  not  take  the  Palace  at 
ouce'r'" 

"  They  do  not  intend  to  storm  it  for  fear  of  sacrificing 
the  lives  of  the  Auditors,  whom  they  wish  to  retain  as 
hostages." 

"Fear!  The  Viracochas  fear!  The  men  of  iron  are 
afraid.  They  want  hostages  to  protect  their  lives.  When 
the  men  of  our  race  embrace  a  cause  they  do  not  ask  what 
becomes  of  their  lives.  Still,  if  you  wish  to  save  those 
miserable  extortioners  in  the  Palace,  it  shall  be  done.  I 
can  take  the  Palace,  and  deliver  the  Ministers  into  your 
hands,  without  hurting  a  hair  on  their  sinful  heads.  Give 
us  but  a  trial,  and  you  shall  see  what  my  children  are  made 
of.  But.  Don  Eoberto,  they  will  not  move  without  my 
commands ;  and  these  commands  I  shall  not  give  until  our 
rights  are-secured." 

"  For  this  very  reason,  the  Cabildo  has  instructed  me  to 
obtain  from  Your  Royal  Highness  a  statement  of  your  de 
mands." 

"  Prince  Cundurazu  will  acquaint  you  with  what  we 
ask.  I  shall  leave  you  with  him.  And  now,  Don  Eoberto, 
whatever  the  result  of  our  negotiations  may  be,  whether 
they  succeed  or  fail,  I  accept  the  offer  of  your  friendship, 
and  shall  treasure  it  up  in  my  heart.  You  have  given  it  as 
a  cavalier  to  a  lad}*,  Don  Roberto,  and  the  lady  will  hold 
you  to  it.  Mark  me,  if  we  should  never  meet  again  :  what 
you  promised  to  Toa  Duchicela  for  her  sake,  was  pleasant 
music  to  her  ears,  but  shall  be  no  duty  imposed  upon  you. 
But  from  the  promise  you  made  in  favor  of  my  race,  I 
shall  never,  never  release  you.  And  now  farewell,  my 
friend.  Call  on  me  if  adversity  should  befall  you.  I  am 
a  homeless  wanderer,  and  yet  a  powerful  Queen.  Toa 
Duchicela  will  never  forget  or  forsake  the  friends  of  her 
race." 

With  these  words  she  extended  her  hand  to  him,  which  he 


192  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

covered  with  burning  kisses.  She  then  withdrew  to  a  side 
chapel,  and  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  a  Christian 
altar,  and  sent  up  fervent  prayers,  not  to  Christ  or  the  Vir 
gin  or  to  the  Supreme  Being  of  the  Christians,  in  whose 
existence  she  partly  believed,  and  whose  greatness  she  ac 
knowledged  ;  but  to  that  unknown  God  who,  to  her  mind, 
was  greater  and  higher  than  the  Trinity  of  the  foreigners, 
greater  than  the  sun  and  the  moon,  the  gods  of  her  own 
race,  to  Pachacamac,  who  had  ruled  the  heavens  and  the 
earth  long  before  the  Sun-God  had  revealed  himself  to  the 
first  Inca  ;  long  before  the  powerful  Carans  dethroned  the 
feeble  chiefs  of  the  Quitus,  long  before  the  Christian  God 
was  heard  of  in  the  land  of  her  fathers. 

With  a  few  words,  Cundurazu  disclosed  to  Sanchez  the 
great  plan  for  which  he  had  gained  the  approbation  of 
Bellido.  Peru  was  to  be  made  independent  of  Spain,  and 
to  be  governed  by  a  native  Viracocha,  who  was  to  be  the 
husband  of  Toa.  This  plan,  however,  was  not  to  be  com 
municated  to  the  full  Cabildo  at  present,  but  young  Sanchez 
was  to  submit  it  to  his  father,  who  should  carefully  pre 
pare  for,  and  win  to,  it  the  leaders  of  the  Revolution.  In 
the  meantime,  the  provincial  office  of  defender  of  the 
Indians,  whom  the  Spanish  law  classed  as  " persona s  mis- 
erables"  with  minors,  women,  lunatics,  idiots,  and  paupers, 
and  which  office  was  now  held  by  a  corrupt  tool  of  the 
Encomenderos,  should  be  conferred  on  Carrera  or  some 
other  trustworthy  friend  of  the  conquered  race.  The  ordi 
nances  forbidding  Indians  to  be  transported  in  chains 
should  be  strictly  enforced.  The  laws  forbidding  them  the 
ownership  and  use  of  arms  and  horses,  and  all  laws  dis 
criminating  against  them  as  to  dress,  property,  and  the  com 
forts  of  life  should  be  revoked.  Forced  labor  in  the  fac 
tories  and  mines,  or  on  public  buildings,  should  be  prohib 
ited.  All  services  rendered  by  the  Indians  should  be  vol 
untary,  and  should  be  paid  for.  Upon  the  acceptance  of 
these  conditions,  by  a  solemn  act  of  the  Cabildo,  Queen 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  193 

Toa  would  co-operate  with  the  Cabildo  in  the  storming  of 
the  Palace.  As  the  Indians  were  still  unacquainted  with 
the  use  of  firearms,  and  in  order  to  spare  lives,  she  asked 
for  the  assistance  of  a  few  arquebusiers.  The  attack  should 
be  made  this  very  night.  With  the  aid  of  a  few  arquebus 
iers,  Queen  Toa  would  deliver  the  Palace  and  the  Minis 
ters  into  the  hands  of  the  Cabildo  before  the  break  of  day. 
Upon  the  marriage  of  Toa  to  the  future  King  of  Quito,  the 
Inca  Treasure  should  be  delivered  to  the  new  government 
for  three  purposes — 1.  To  maintain  the  royal  state  ;  2.  To 
carry  the  war  against  Spain  to  a  successful  termination  ; 
and,  3.  To  indemnify  the  Encomenderos  and  the  owners  of 
Indian  slaves  for  their  losses  by  emancipation,  and  to  re 
ward  the  men  of  the  Revolution  for  the  services  rendered 
to  the  cause  of  independence. 

With  this  informatiun,  Sanchez  returned  to  the  Cabildo. 
He  was  to'meet  Cundurazu  within  the  next  two  hours  at 
the  same  place  to  acquaint  him  with  the  determination  of 
the  Municipality.  But  he  was  to  come  alone,  and  in  case 
treachery  should  be  attempted,  he  pledged  himself,  on  the 
honor  of  a  cavalier,  to  warn  the  counselors  of  Toa  through 
Mariano  or  any  other  intelligent  Indian. 

The  report  of  Robert  Sanchez  threw  the  Cabildo  into  a 
maze  of  doubts  and  perplexities,  and  again  the  discus 
sion  threatened  to  become  endless.  By  this  time,  two  par 
ties  had  distinctly  developed  themselves.  The  one  was  the 
party  of  action,  and  favored  bold  and  energetic  measures. 
It  adopted  the  full  programme  of  Bellido,  and  soon  became 
known  by  the  name  of  Bellidistas.  The  other  party  had 
no  programme  of  its  own,  but  objected  to  all  decisive  arid 
radical  measures.  It  proposed  nothing,  but  doubted  every 
thing.  It  claimed  to  be  in  favor  of  action,  and  yet  it  could 
not  resolve  to  act.  Its  policy  was  to  temporize  and  to 
await  developments  in  a  guarded  attitude  of  defense.  It 
became  the  party  of  hesitation,  which  was  soon  joined  by 
all  the  secret  friends  of  the  King,  and  by  all  those  who 


194  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

feared  that  the  new  dispensation  would  endanger  their  pe 
cuniary  interests.  The  nominal  chief  of  this  party  was 
Londono,  while  Paredes  soon  became,  of  course  secretly 
and  unknown  to  almost  all  its  members,  its  real  head. 
Openly,  Paredes  embraced  the  cause  of  the  Bellidistas,  and 
seemed  to  be  one  of  its  loudest  and  most  determined  advo 
cates.  The  leaders  of  the  party  of  action  were  Sanchez 
and  Olmos.  As  these  differences  of  opinion  soon  grew 
into  bitter  dissensions,. they  divided  the  people  of  Quito 
against  itself,  and  speedily  weakened,  and  finally  under 
mined  and  overthrew,  the  cause  of  the  Revolution. 

But  let  us  return  to  our  narrative.  Where  men  will  dis 
agree  in  debate,  events  will  turn  the  scale.  The  helpless 
discussions  of  the  Cabildo,  were  interrupted  by  the  arrival 
of  a  party  of  Municipal  scouts,  who  had  intercepted  the 
Royal  mail-carrier,  a  short  distance  from  the  city,  on  his 
way  from  the  coast  to  the  capital,  llis  mail-bag  was  taken 
from  him,  and  delivered  to  the  Cabildo.  That  body  at  once 
determined  to  open  it,  and  to  examine  its  contents,  among 
which  were  two  documents  of  startling  importance.  The 
one  was  a  dispatch  from  the  Viceroy  to  the  Audience  of 
Quito,  which  contained  the  alarming  information  that  a 
military  expedition  was  in  process  of  organization,  under 
the  command  of  old  Pedro  de  Arana,  to  proceed  by  sea  to 
Guayaquil,  and  thence  by  land  to  Quito.  The  preparations 
were  nearly  completed,  and  the  vessel  should  sail  in  a  few 
days.  If  upon  his  arrival  at  Guayaquil,  Arana  should 
learn  that  the  city  of  Quito  had  submitted  to  the  collection 
of  the  Alcabala,  he  was  to  return  to  Callao ;  if  not,  his  or 
ders  were  to  proceed  to  Quito,  and  to  increase  his  forces 
among  the  friends  of  law  and  order,  in  the  towns  on  the 
road.  He  should  have  full  power  to  arrest,  try,  and  pun 
ish  those  who  had  rebelled  against  the  King,  as  well  as 
those  who  had  given  encouragement  to  the  rebels,  or 
had  refused  to  assist  in  the  suppression  of  the  rebellion. 
His  instructions  were  such  that  no  man's  life  or  property 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  195 

was  secure  at  Quito.  There  was  not  a  man  in  the  assem 
bly  which,  with  breathless  attention,  listened  to  the  read 
ing  of  this  ominous  dispatch,  who  would  not  be  at  the 
mercy  of  the  royal  commissioner.  And  worst  of  all  was 
the  fact  that  Arana  was  a  rich  man,  whom  it  would  not  be 
easy  to  bribe.  Executions  and  confiscations,  would  be  the 
order  of  the  dajT,  should  the  dreaded  Spaniard  who  had 
graduated  in  the  school  of  Alba,  enter  the  capital  of  the 
ancient  Shyris.  Even  submission  and  obedience  would 
then  be  too  late ;  and  who  would  have  dared  to  speak  of 
submission  now? 

The  other  document  was  a  letter  from  the  son  of  the  Mar 
quis  de  Solando  at  Lima,  to  his  father  at  Quito.  It  con 
tained  the  announcement  that  the  young  gentleman  would 
return  to  Quito  on  the  staff  of  Arana.  It  also  stated  that 
the  Viceroy  had  treated  the  writer  with  great  kindness  and 
condescension,  and  had  informed  him  that  in  dispatches 
from  the  Court  of  Madrid,  the  Marquis  had  been  spoken  of 
in  high  terms,  and  mentioned  as  one  who  should  be  con 
sulted  as  to  the  measures  to  be  taken  for  the  pacification  of 
the  colony,  and  the  rewards  or  punishments  of  the  leading 
men  of  Quito. 

These  documents  at  once  secured  the  ascendancy  of  the 
party  of  action.  They  silenced,  at  least  for  the  present,  the 
voices  of  those  who  favored  procrastination.  The  danger 
bad  become  imminent,  and  not  a  day  was  to  be  lost.  The 
attack  on  the  Palace  should  be  ma^e,  and  the  persons  of 
the  President,  and  the  Auditors  be  secured,  at  once.  Help 
must  be  accepted  from  whatever  quarter  it  could  be  ob 
tained.  The  Cabildo  decided  with  u  rush  to  accede  to 
the  demands  of  the  Indians,  for  the  time,  which  meant 
that  many,  if  not  most  of  those  who  voted  to  do  so,  did 
it  with  a  mental  reservation  that  all  such  concessions 
might  be  revoked,  whenever  it  should  become  expedient  or 
desirable  hereafter.  A  series  of  ordinances  were  enacted, 
embodying  the  demands  of  Queen  Toa  into  Municipal 


196  THE    SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

Laws.  The  attack  on  the  Palace,  however,  should  not  be 
left  to  the  Indians  alone.  The  majority  of  the  Cabildo, 
entertained  a  very  low  opinion  of  Indian  usefulness  for 
military  operations.  Pedro  de  Guzman  Ponce  de  Leon 
should  be  put  in  command  of  the  Arquebusiers  of  the  City, 
who  were  to  keep  up  afire  from  the  porticos,  and  the  neigh 
boring  houses,  to  drive  the  soldiers  from  the  doors  and 
windows  of  the  Palace,  while  the  Indians  should  make  the 
attack  in  front,  and  on  the  south  side.  In  the  rear,  Juan 
Castro's  men  were  to  renew  their  operations,  which  had 
nearly  proved  successful  during  the  first  attack.  Eobcrto 
was  dispatched  to  Queen  Toa,  to  signify  to  her  the  accept 
ance  of  the  Cabildo,  and  to  act  as  her  military  adviser.  At 
the  expiration  of  two  hours  the  attack  should  begin.  The 
ringing  of  the  Cathedral  bell  should  be  the  signal. 

In  the  meantime  orders  were  given  for  the  arrest  and 
imprisonment  of  the  Marquis  de  Solando.  His  house 
should  be  searched,  and  should  he  not  be  found  there,  de 
tachments  of  mounted  men  wera  to  proceed  to  his  hacien 
das  at  Chillo  and  Tambillo,  to  seek  for  him  there  and 
bring  him  before  the  Cabildo.  The  estates  of  the  Marquis 
were  an  inviting  prize  to  his  political  enemies.  Not  only 
the  Marquis,  but  all  the  other  open  adherents  of  Spain 
should  suffer  for  their  disloyalty  to  the  popular  cause. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

A    DOMICILIARY   VISIT. 

PAREDES  not  being  a  member  of  the  Cabildo,  was  not  in 
the  session  chamber,  but  he  was  in  the  building,  and  soon 
learned  that  letters  compromising  the  Marquis  had  been 
intercepted.  He  concluded  at  once  that  the  arrest  of  the 
Marquis  would  be  ordered  by  the  Cabildo.  It  was  of  the 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  197 

utmost  importance  to  warn  him,  if  at  his  house,  or  to  send 
a  messenger  ahead  of  the  mounted  men  of  the  Cabildo,  in 
case  the  old  gentleman  should  be  at  one  of  his  haciendas 
in  the  country.  The  house  of  the  Marquis  was  guarded 
by  Municipal  Guards.  These  men  would  admit  Paredes, 
he  knew,  but  they  would  also  inform  the  searching  party 
of  his  visit,  and  this  might  cost  him  the  confidence  of  the 
rebels,  which  he  had  won  so  skillfully  and  in  the  face  of 
such  difficulties.  What  should  he  do?  There  was  but  one 
way,  and  it  was  a  desperate  one.  He  would  forestall  the 
men  of  the  Cabildo,  and  search  the  house  on  his  own  re 
sponsibility,  with  volunteers  whom  he  would  gather  on 
the  street.  One  line  to  Dolores,  which  he  would  slip  into 
her  hand,  one  word  which  he  might  whisper  to  her,  would 
answer  his  purpose.  Fortunately,  as  he  left  the  Munici 
pality  Building,  he  discovered  his  Mayordomo  in  the 
crowds  around  the  main  entrance.  "Don  Tomas,"  he  said, 
taking  him  aside,  "send  for  one  of  my  fastest  horses  and 
let  it  be  brought  to  the  Plaza  of  Santa  Clara.  Have  it  in 
readiness  there  for  yourself,  and  then  follow  me  to  the 
house  of  the  Marquis  de  Solando.  Be  quick  about  it,  Don 
Tomas !  You  have  befriended  me  a  thousand  times,  and  I 
want  your  help  now  more  than  ever.  You  know  I  love 
Dolores  Solando,  and  to  win  her  I  must  save  her  father,  no 
matter  what  he  thinks  of  the  Alcabala.  Do  you  under 
stand  me,  Don  Tomas?" 

"  I  do,  master,  and  you  may  rely  on  me.  I  shall  hasten 
to  give  the  necessary  orders." 

£i  But  be  sure  to  be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  I  must  have 
you  with  me  to  warn  the  Seiiorita,  and  learn  from  her 
where  her  father  is." 

Don  Tomas  succeeded  in  giving  his  orders  without  a 
moment's  delay,  and  rejoined  his  master  before  the  latter 
had  left  the  Great  Square.  The  first  group  of  armed  men 
they  met,  Paredes  addressed  thus:  "Seilores!  Letters  im 
plicating  the  Marquis  de  Solando  have  been  intercepted  by 


198  THE   SECRET    OF    THK    ANDES. 

the  men  of  the  Cabildo.  He  is  plotting  the  downfall  of 
our  cause,  and  must  be  made  a  prisoner.  1  bave  informa 
tion,  which  I  consider  trustworthy,  that  he  has  returned  to 
his  house  in  disguise,  in  order  to  be  near  the  scene  of  ac 
tion.  Will  you  come  with  me  to  search  for  him  and  to 
take  him?" 

"  We  will!  We  will !"  clamored  the  men.  "Down  with 
the  Marquis !  Yiva  el  Senor  Paredes !"  and  to  San  Fran 
cisco  marched  the  party,  increasing  in  numbers  and  vio 
lence  on  the  way. 

Paredes  felt  sure  that  the  Marquis  was  not  at  his  house ; 
but  if  he  should  be  there,  Paredes  would  manage  not  to 
find  him.  The  old  gentleman  had  several  haciendas  in  the 
country,  and  it  was  necessary  to  know  at  which  one  he 
had  taken  refuge,  so  as  not  to  lose  time.  If  he  could  be 
given  an  hour's  start  of  his  pursuers  he  would  be  safe. 

"  Let  a  strong  party  go  to  the  rear  of  the  house  to  pre 
vent  his  escape  through  the  garden."  commanded  Paredes, 
thus  considerably  diminishing  his  followers.  "Search  all 
the  out-houses,  ranches,  and  stables  in  the  rear,  and  I 
shall  take  charge  of  the  main  building." 

The  Municipal  Guards  at  the  door  at  first  denied  them 
entrance,  but  when  they  were  confronted  by  Paredes  in 
the  name  of  the  city  of  Quito,  they  gave  way  and  admit 
ted  as  many  as  Paredes  chose  to  let  in.  "  Enough,  my 
friends !"  said  the  cunning  Creole,  "we  must  not  terrify 
the  ladies — it  is  the  man  we  want;"  and  with  a  command 
ing  gesture  he  ordered  the  Municipal  Guards  to  stop  fur 
ther  incursions. 

"  Now,  my  friends,  search  the  lower  part  of  the  house. 
Quite  likely  he  may  be  hidden  in  the  quarters  of  the  serv 
ants.  A  dozen  of  us  will  suffice  to  search  the  rooms 
above." 

Nevertheless,  a  much  larger  number  followed  him  up 
stairs,  and  it  would  have  aroused  suspicion  to  keep  them 
back. 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  199 

Dolores,  pale  as  death,  but  composed  and  courageous, 
awaited  them  at  ihe  head  of  the  main  staircase.  When 
she  recognized  Paredes,  who  had  assumed  the  sternest  pos 
sible  look,  she  felt  relieved. 

"  I  regret,  Senora,"  he  began  in  a  courteous,  but  hard 
and  determined  tone;  "I  regret  that  it  has  become  my 
painful  duty  to  arrest  your  father." 

"My  father  has  left  the  city,"  replied  Dolores,  likewise 
assuming  an  air  of  haughty  determination. 

"As  in  such  cases  it  would  be  the  duty  of  a  daughter  to 
conceal  the  truth,  your  Ladyship  will  pardon  us  for  doubt 
ing  your  word.  We  must  search  the  house !" 

"  Search  it,  then  !     I  shall  show  you  the  way." 

"  As  you  please,  Senora,"  said  Paredes,  with  a  deep  bow 
and  significant  look,  which  she  eagerly  scanned,  but  was 
unable  to  interpret.  But  when  he,  as  if  by  accident,  touched 
his  Mayordomo,  who  had  pushed  himself  forward,  she  con 
cluded  that  bis  look  had  an  object,  and  that  she  must  be  on 
the  qui  vive.  The  party  now  entered  the  room  next  to  the 
staircase,  the  lady  leading  the  way.  It  was  a  sitting-room 
leading  into  the  main  salon.  Aunt  Catita  was  there,  and 
gave  a  wild  scream  at  the  entrance  of  the  armed  men. 
This  led  some  of  the  men  to  believe  that  the  Marquis  was 
really  in  the  house,  and  they  rushed  forward,  passing  Dolo 
res.  By  this  time  Don  Tomas  was  at  her  side,  and,  un 
noticed  in  the  tumult  and  confusion  which  followed, 
whispered  to  her :  "  Where  is  your  father,  Senorita  ?"  She 
looked  at  him,  distrustfully,  and  then  looked  at  Paredes, 
who  had  opened  a  large  wardrobe,  and  stood  back  for 
some  of  his  followers  to  search  it.  As  he  turned  around 
and  took  in  the  situation,  he  gave  a  nod  imperceptible 
to  all  but  her.  "  I  am  his  Mayordomo,"  whispered  Don 
Tomas,"  and  must  warn  your  Ladyship's  father  !"  Dolores 
moved  away  from  him,  but  as  she  passed  him,  she  whis 
pered  the  word  :  "  Tambillo  !" 

Three  hours  afterward  the  Marquis  was  on  his  way  to 


2CO  THE    SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

the  coast.  An  hour  later  the  mounted  men  of  the  Cabildo 
arrived  at  his  hacienda  at  Tambillo,  but  the  nest  was 
empty — the  bird  had  flown. 


CHAPTEK  X. 

HATUNTAQUI,  THE  GREAT  DRUM  OP  WAR. 

ARMED  men  wore  hurrying  to  and  fro.  The  news  that 
another  attack  should  be  made  on  the  Palace  had  spread 
like  wild-fire.  The  streets  of  Quito,  usually  so  quiet 
and  dark  at  night,  were  lurid  with  the  blaze  of  torches. 
Torches  were  fastened  to  the  balconies  of  the  friends  of  the 
popular  cause — and  who  would  now  have  dared  not  to  be 
its  friend  ?  And  torch -bearers  hurried  to  and  fro,  or  stood 
around  the  groups  of  armed  men  stationed  in  the  streets, 
and  discussing,  in  eager  suspense  and  anticipation,  the  event 
that  was  to  come.  Anxiously  the  multitudes  awaited  the 
ringing  of  the  great  Cathedral  bell,  which  was  to  be  the 
signal  for  the  final  attack.  "Wild  rumors  concerning  the  con 
templated  co-operation  of  the  Indians  were  carried  from 
group  to  group.  The  mysterious  Indian  Queen,  hitherto  a 
myth,  was  to  become  a  reality  to-night.  Some  even  pretended 
to  have  seen  her, dressed  in  a  robe  resplendentwith  gold  arid 
precious  stones.  Still,  but  few  Indians  were  to  be  seen, 
and  the  wiseacres  shook  their  heads  incredulously.  All  at 
once,  a  deep,  hollow,  but  penetrating  sound,  like  the 
noise  of  a  volcanic  explosion,  was  heard,  and  startled 
everybody.  No  one  had  heard  such  an  unearthly  sound 
before.  Another  soon  followed,  and  still  another,  and  each 
could  be  heard  all  over  the  city.  At  the  same  time  the 
streets  filled  with  Indians.  Every  house  vomited  them 
forth.  From  every  rancho  they  emerged.  Out  of  the 
lanes  and  ravines  which  ran  through  the  towTn  and  were 
not  then  arched  over  and  hidden  from  public  view,  as 


BOOK    III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  201 

now,  the  Indians  issued  forth,  uttering  deep,  gutteral,  and 
unintelligible  exclamations.  They  were  armed  with  clubs, 
knives,  pikes  ;  with  anything  they  could  lay  hands  on,  and 
those  who  had  no  weapons  carried  stones  in  their  ponchos, 
read}*  to  sling  them  at  their  enemies.  It  seemed  unaccount 
able  where  they  had  all  come  from  in  so  short  a  time.  The 
Plaza  of  San  Francisco  and  the  street  leading  from  it  to 
the  Great  Square  were  soon  filled  with  them.  The  mys 
terious  and  terrific  detonations,  which  so  puzzled  the  Creoles, 
became  louder  and  more  unearthly  as  they  approached  the 
Great  Square.  Some  of  the  whites  at  last  interrogated  the 
Indians  as  to  those  unearthly  sounds.  "  Hatuntaqui  ! 
Hatuntaqui!"  was  the  reply. 

"Hatuntaqui,"  in  the  Quichua  language,  means  "the 
great  drum  of  war."  And  it  was  one  of  the  great  drums 
of  war  that,  carefully  hidden  away,  had  survived  the  Span 
ish  conquest,  and  was  now  brought  forth  once  more  tp 
rally  the  children  of  the  sun  to  deadly  combat.  They  did 
not  know  whom  they  were  to  be  led  against,  and  whose 
cause  they  were  to  espouse,  and  they  did  not  care.  They 
knew  that  their  Shyri  Queen  was  among  them,  and  that 
she  had  commanded  the  great  drum  of  war  to  be  brought 
forth  from  its  hiding-place,  and  that  was  enough.  But 
very  few  of  those  Indians  had  heard  the  sound  of  the  great 
drum,  because  nearly  two  generations  had  passed  away 
since  it  was  beaten  last  under  the  banners  of  the  terrible 
Humiriagui,  the  face  of  stone ;  but  they  knew  it  by  tradi- 
dition.  They  had  had  heard  their  fathers  and  their  mothers 
and  their  grandfathers  and  grandmothers  tell  of  the  mi 
raculous  power  of  those  great  drums,  the  sound  of  which 
could  be  heard  at  the  distance  of  many  miles.  And  they 
knew  that  when  that  drum  was  sounded  every  male  In 
dian  must  come  forth  and  follow  it  to  battle.  It  was  the 
sound  of  resurrection  to  their  ears.  What  they  heard  as 
a  tradition  in  the  misery  of  their  lowly  cottages  had  become 
a  reality.  The  Hatuntaqui  was  beaten  again,  and  the  In- 


202  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

dians  followed  it  as  in  the  days  of  Atahualpa;  followed 
it,  as  if  sixty  years  of  slavery  and  suffering  had  not  inter 
vened;  followed  it,  as  if  there  had  been  no  Spanish  con 
quest  ;  followed  it,  as  if  it  were  an  old  familiar  sound  which 
they  had  heard  but  yesterday.  And  as  the  large  and  un 
wieldy  contrivance  came  in  sight  at  last,  borne  on  the 
shoulders  of  two  powerful  Indians,  and  beaten  by  a  third, 
they  wildly  brandished  their  worthless  weapons,  and 
shouted:  "  Hatuntaqui !  Hatuntaqui!" 

As  yet  the  sea  of  Indian  heads  had  no  direction,  but 
waved  to  and  fro  in  apparent  aim  less  ness.  Their  generals 
had  not  yet  appeared  upon  the  scene.  But  the  suspense 
was  of  short  duration.  A  very  old  man,  dressed  in  a  white 
alpaca  robe,  in  which  we  have  seen  him  already,  and  with 
a  weapon  of  bronze  in  his  hand,  appeared  among  them. 
Few  knew  him,  although  many  had  seen  him  in  the 
Church  of  San  Francisco,  when  Queen  Toa  showed  her 
self  to  her  people.  But  whether  they  knew  him  or  not, 
they  knew  that  he  was  a  man  of  authority,  and  unhesitat 
ingly  they  intended  to  follow  him.  The}"  knew  by  the  tra 
ditions  of  their  race  that  he  wore  the  garb  of  a  great  Indian 
Prince,  who  would,  by  rights,  be  their  general.  It  soon 
became  known  that  he  was  the  mighty  Curaca  Cundurazu, 
who,  in  the  days  of  Atahualpa,  had  defeated  the  treacher 
ous  Canares  in  many  a  bloody  conflict.  He  must  be  ninety 
or  a  hundred  years  old ;  but  he  appeared  to  them  as  the 
impersonation  of  all  the  glories  of  the  past,  and  they  re 
ceived  him  with  joyful  acclamations.  He  commanded  si 
lence  by  a  wave  of  his  hand,  and  swinging  himself  on  the 
shoulders  of  two  men,  who  proudly  supported  him,  he 
said  : 

"  Children,  the  Kingdom  of  the  Shyri  Incas  will  come 
again.  Did  you  think  that  the  Hatuntaqui  was  broken,  and 
that  its  sounds  should  be  heard  no  more?  There  it  is 
again  !  Do  you  see  the  great  drum  of  war  ?  Do  you  hear 
its  mighty  sounds  ?  Do  you  know  what  it  means  ?  " 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  203 

"Hatuntaqui!  Hatuntaqui!  "  shouted  thousands  of  voices. 

"I  am  Cundurazu,  the  Curaca  of  Purruha,  a  descendant 
of  its  ancient  rulers,  the  great  kings,  through  whom  the 
house  of  Duchicela,  by  marriage,  united  with  Toa  Caran, 
the  only  daughter  of  the  Sh}-ri  of  Quito.  I  have  led  your 
grandfathers  to  battle,  and  I  shall  lead  their  granchildren 
to-night.  1  saved  the  life  of  Autachi,  the  son  of  Atahu- 
alpa,  the  father  of  Queen  Toa,  and  brought  him  up  to  reign 
over  you  in  secret.  1  watched  over  his  child  Toa,  and  with 
the  aid  of  our  father,  the  Sun,  and  your  strong  arms,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  friendly  Viracochas,  I  shall  restore 
her  to  the  throne  of  the  Shyris.  Behold  ber — there  she 
comes  ! " 

A  palanquin,  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  four  Indians,  now 
appeared  in  the  Plaza  of  San  Francisco,  and  turned  into 
the  street  leading  to  the  Great  Square.  Toa,  dressed  in  tho 
robes  of  the  Incas,  sat  in  it  on  an  elevated  seat,  and  by  her 
side,  on  a  powerful  steed,  rode  Eoberto  Sanchez,  hat  in 
hand.  Her  forehead  was  encircled  with  the  great  diadem 
of  the  Shyris,  .distinguished  by  the  immensity  of  its  brilliant 
emerald.  A  girdle  in  the  shape  of  a  serpent,  studded  with 
precious  stones,  encircled  her  waist,  and  in  her  right  hand 
she  held  a  staff,  to  which  the  golden  image  of  the  Sun  was 
fastened.  The  Indians  threw  themselves  on  their  knees, 
and  stretched  out  their  arms  to  the  one  being  who  was 
dearer  to  them  than  life.  Toa  rose  from  ber  seat,  and 
commanded  them  to  rise  likewise,  wbich  they  did  with  en 
thusiastic  acclamations. 

"Children  of  Quito,  Purruha,  and  Caranqui !"  she  said. 
"You  all  know  Toa  Duchicela,  the  daughter  of  Autachi, 
the  son  of  Atabualpa.  She  has  come  to  restore  the  empire 
of  her  fathers.  The  good  Viracochas  will  help  her.  The 
bad  Viracochas  must  be  overthrown.  The  men  of  the  Pal 
ace  are  our  oppressors,  as  they  are  the  oppressors  of  our 
Viracocha  friends.  When  the  Cathedral  bell  shall  ring,  the 
Palace  must  be  taken  by  you,  my  children.  The  friendly 


2  »4  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANI>ES. 

Viracocbas  will  help  you.  The  false  rulers  in  the  Palace 
must  be  made  prisoners,  and  delivered  to  our  Viracocha 
friends.  The  venerable  Curaea  of  Purruha,  the  greatest 
of  the  surviving  heroes  of  our  race,  will  lead  you  ;  and 
Toa  Duehicela,  the  Shyri  Inca,  will  behold,  with  her  own 
eyes,  the  valor  of  her  people.  Our  Viracocha  friends  have 
doubted  your  heroism,  because  they  never  heard  the  sound 
of  the  Hatuntaqui,  which  rallies  the  children  of  the  Sun 
to  victory.  The  great  Goya-Priestess,  whom  the  people 
call  Mama  Eucu,  has  prophesied  that  our  empire  will  rise 
again,  and  that  a  union  will  be  made  between  our  people 
and  the  friendly  Viracochas,  as  the  Kingdom  of  Purruha 
was  once  united  to  the  Empire  of  Quito." 

With  these  words  she  turned  to  Boberto  Sanchez :  "And 
now,  my  friend,  take  my  place  for  an  instant,  and  let  me 
have  your  horse.  My  people  are  not  trained  to  understand 
the  art  of  words;  it  is  a  symbol  which  they  must  see." 

Eoberto  was  wild  with  excitement,  and  thrilled  with  en 
thusiasm.  He  helped  Toa  from  her  palanquin,  and  lifted 
her  on  his  horse.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated  to  take  her 
place,  but  a  look  from  her  reassured  him,  and  he  ascended 
her  throne.  Immediately  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him, 
and  hand  in  hand  they  remained  for  a  few  seconds,  during 
which  the  air  rang  with  acclamations  :  "Hail  to  the  great 
"Viracocha  !  Hail  to  the  Viracocha  Shyri !  Hail  to  the  Inca 
Viracocha ! " 

Toa  then  rode  through  square  and  street  up  to  the  very 
front  of  the  Palace,  so  as  to  let  all  her  followers  see  that 
she  was  there.  After  this  she  slowly  returned  through  the 
dense  multitude  and,  dismounting,  resumed  her  seat  on  the 
throne,  while  Eoberto  Sanchez  remounted  his  horse. 

And  now  the  great  bell  of  the  Cathedral  rang  loudly 
and  rapidly  through  the  lurid  night.  The  signal  was 
given.  The  struggle  was  to  commence.  True  to  the 
agreement,  the  Arquebusiers  of  the  Municipality  opened 
fire  on  the  soldiers  in  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  Palace, 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  205 

and  one  of  the  first  victims  was  young  Guzman  de  Tapia, 
the  aid  of  Valverde,  who  stood  leaning  over  the  barricade 
at  the  main  entrance,  gazing  with  blank  astonishment  at 
the  proceedings  of  the  Indians,  which,  to  him,  were  unin 
telligible. 

Cundurazu  brandished  his  weapon,  and  vainly  endeavor 
ing  to  press  forward  through  the  living  wall  of  his  follow 
ers,  shouted:  "Beat  the  Hatuntaqui  !  Forward  to  the 
Palace  !  Let  the  cry  be  Toa  Duchicela  '"  And  with  the 
swiftness  of  the  mountain-current,  the  living  wave  rolled 
into  the  Great  Square,  and  up  to  the  entrances  of  the  Pal 
ace.  The  garrison  opened  a  heavy  fire  on  the  assailants. 
The  field-pieces  belched  forth  destructive  thunder  and 
mowed  down  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  Indians.  But  the 
places  of  those  who  fell  were  immediatel}-  filled  up  by  the 
masses  behind  them,  who  pushed  forward  with  irresistible 
impetuosity,  seeming  to  court  death  under  the  eyes  of  their 
Queen.  There  was  no  panic,  no  stampede,  no  wavering, 
no  turning  back.  Before  the  guns  could  be  reloaded,  the 
Indians  had  overrun  the  Esplanade,  broken  through  the 
barricade,  poured  through  the  main  entrance,  bore  down 
the  soldiers  by  the  mere  weight  of  numbers,  ever  increas 
ing,  and  ever  pushing  on,  and  soon  filled  the  Palace  court, 
its  lower  halls  and  corridors.  The  assault  was  successful 
before  it  had  fairly  begun.  And  during  all  this  time,  the 
bell  of  the  Cathedral  was  kept  ringing,  and  the  terrific 
Hatuntaqui,  like  the  thunders  of  Mt.  Cotopaxi,  boomed 
through  the  night. 


206  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   CURSE   OP   MAMA   RUCTT. 

OF  the  preparations  and  events  described  in  the  forego 
ing  chapters,  nothing  was  known  in  the  Convent  of  La 
Merced.  About  five  or  ten  minutes  before  the  great  bell 
of  the  Cathedral  gave  the  preconcerted  signal  for  the  at 
tack,  a  solemn  procession  issued  from  the  Church  of  the 
Mercedarios,  and  slowly  moved  toward  the  Palace.  Friars 
bearing  torches  or  censers  preceded  it,  and  were  followed 
by  four  mestizos,  carrying  a  Baldachin,  under  which  the 
Superior  walked,  holding  in  his  hands  the  holy  Eucharist, 
or,  as  the  Creoles  called  it,  "  La  Magestad."  The  ringing 
of  a  small  bell  announced  the  progress  of  the  procession. 

Wherever  it  appeared,  the  people  fell  on  their  knees,  un 
covering  their  heads,  and  reverentially  allowing  it  to  pass. 
It  had  already  advanced  one  square  from  the  church,  when 
it  met  with  an  unexpected  obstacle.  Juan  Castro  and  some 
of  his  men  were  kneeling  in  the  center  of  the  street,  ob 
structing  the  passage  of  the  procession.  About  half  a 
square  behind  them,  in  the  direction  of  the  Palace,  was  a 
multitude  of  armed  and  unarmed  men.  The  procession 
itself  was  completely  surrounded  by  men  on  their  knees. 

"  Most  reverend  Father,"  began  Juan  Castro,  with  his 
head  bowed  low,  "  whither  do  you  intend  to  go  ?" 

"  Clear  the  way,  children  !"  commanded  the  Superior. 
"Do  you  dare  obstruct  the  passage  of  the  Lord's  Maj 
esty  ?" 

"  Most  reverend  Father,"  continued  Juan  Castro,  "  your 
life  will  be  in  danger  if  you  proceed  an  inch  farther.  Fir 
ing  will  commence  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  do  not  wish  a 
hair  on  your  holy  head  to  be  harmed." 


BOOK   III.       THE   REVOLUTION.  207 

"Out  of  the  way,  man  !"  resumed  the  Superior.  "Wo 
carry  the  most  holy  sacrament  to  the  dying  Christians 
of  the  Palace,  as  we  have  administered  it  to  the  Christians 
outside.  Cursed  be  he  who  stops  t-he  progress  of  this 
sacred  procession  !  " 

"  Father  !  "  replied  Castro  most  reverentially  and  bow 
ing  his  head  still  lower,  "  far  be  it  from  me  to  stop  the  prog 
ress  of  your  Reverence.  With  my  own  body  I  shall  protect 
you.  But  it  is  your  own  safety,  Most  Reverend  Father, 
and  the  safety  of  the  holy  men  who  are  with  you,  for 
which  I  am  alarmed.  Let  me  warn  you,  Most  Reverend 
Father,  not  to  proceed  any  further — at  least,  not  now.  The 
signal  for  the  attack  may  be  given  at  any  moment  and  it 
will  provoke  the  fire  of  the  garrison." 

"Your  solicitude,  rny  son,"  said  the  Superior,  "is  com 
mendable;  but  your  zeal  exceeds  your  discretion.  There 
is  no  fighting  now,  and  there  will  be  none  in  the  presence 
of  the  Magestad.  Give  room,  children;  the  Lord  is  with 
us  and  will  protect  us." 

"  I  have  warned  you,  Father,"  answered  Castro,  reluct 
antly  preparing  to  obey,  "  and  having  done  my  duty,  I 
shall  submit  to  your  commands.  Room  for  the  Lord's  Maj 
esty !  Give  way  for  the  most  holy  sacrament !  "  j 

But  at  this  moment,  the  great  bell  of  the  Cathedral  gave 
the  expected  signal,  and  the  firing  instantly  commenced  and. 
was  vigorously  replied  to  by  the  garrison.  The  multitude 
behind  Castro,  nearer  to  the  Palace  than  the  procession, 
broke  and  fled  to  escape  from  the  deadly  missiles  of  the 
besieged.  Great  as  the  reverence  of  the  people  was  for  a 
procession  with  the  Eucharist,  the  instinct  of  self-preserv 
ation  overcame  all  other  considerations.  A  panic  knows 
no  laws,  human  or  divine,  and  onward  came  the  rush  of 
fugitives  bearing  down  everything  in  its  way.  Juan  Cas 
tro  and  his  men,  who  had  been  kneeling,  were  on  their  feet 
in  an  instant,  and  in  the  next  minute  the  rabble  and  the 
sacred  procession  were  one  inextricable  mass  of  confusion, 


208  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

pressing  back  toward  the  Church  and  away  from  the  Pal 
ace.  Not  until  they  were  out  of  the  range  of  the  arque 
buses  of  friends  and  foes,  could  the  current  be  stemmed. 
The  monks  and  their  ministrants  had  been  lifted  off  their 
feet  by  the  pressure  of  terror-stricken  human  beings 
around  them,  and  were  swept  along  by  the  irresistible  wave 
of  men,  running  for  their  lives.  Several  of  the  monks 
were  thrown  down  and  trampled  upon.  The  Baldachin 
under  which  the  Superior  had  marched  was  overthrown 
and  fell,  and  was  soon  torn  to  pieces  by  the  throng.  The 
friars  were  separated  from  each  other  in  an  instant.  Some 
•were  pressed  against  the  walls  of  houses.  Others  were 
swept  onward,  and  those  who  had  been  overrun  vainly 
endeavored  to  rise  to  their  feet,  new  fugitives  stumbling 
over  them  and  keeping  them  down. 

At  last  the  stentorian  voice  of  Juan  Castro  rose  above 
the  din,  while  his  herculean  arms  endeavored  to  restore  or 
der,  and  to  check  the  panic. 

"  Stand,  ye  cowards  !  "  he  shouted.  "  Stand  !  Let  the 
hares  run,  but  let  the  men  rally !  We  must  press  on  to 
our  charge !"  And  as  if  to  rally  the  men,  he  took  a  posi 
tion  at  the  entrance  of  the  Square  before  the  Church,  cast 
ing  fierce  glances  at  every  white  robe  he  could  discern. 
"  Help  the  Eeverend  Fathers  !  Draw  them  out  of  the 
crowd.  Do  not  trample  upon  them,  ye  brutes.  Have  you 
no  respect  for  the  ministers  of  religion,  in  your  abject  cow 
ardice?  There!  "  he  screamed,  rushing  to  the  relief  of  one 
of  the  friars,  whose  robe  was  tearing  under  the  feet  of  those 
tumbling  about  him,  while  he  anxiously  attempted  to  raise 
himself  on  his  knees. 

As  Castro  lifted  him  up,  the  monk  tried  to  draw  his  hood, 
which  had  fallen  on  his  neck,  back  over  his  head  and  face, 
in  order  to  conceal  his  features.  But  it  was  too  late.  The 
eye  of  hate  had  recognized  him.  It  was  Count  Valverde. 

"A  most  holy  man ! "  yelled  Castro,  tearing  the  hood 


BOOK   III.      THE   REVOLUTION.  209 

from  his  captive's  gown,  and  holding  his  arms  in  an  iron 
grip.  "  Come  to  me,  men  of  Quito  !  Quick  !  " 

Powerful  as  the  ruffian  was,  Count  Valverde  shook  him 
off  with  the  strength  of  despair,  and  made  a  rush  in  the 
direction  of  the  church.  But  Castro  immediately  caught 
him  again,  and  a  fierce  struggle  followed,  which  terrified 
and  amazed  the  beholders.  Juan  Castro  had  dared  to  lay 
hands  on  a  holy  man.  A  few  seconds  more,  and  the  wrath  of 
the  populace  would  have  turned  against  the  perpetrator  of 
such  a  sacrilege.  But  the  face  and  beard  of  the  man  with 
whom  he  struggled  were  not  those  of  a  monk.  The  crown 
of  his  head  was  without  the  shaven  mark  of  priesthood.  "It 
is  the  Spanish  commander  !  "  yelled  Castro.  "  Do  you  not 
see  his  face,  ye  brutes?  It  is  the  assassin  of  Bellido,  the 
murderer  of  our  brothers  !  " 

That  was  enough  ;  and  a  dozen  strong  men  seized  the 
unfortunate  Count,  mocking  all  further  resistance. 

"  Off  with  the  robe  which  he  has  shamelessly  dese 
crated  !"  commanded  the  leader  of  the  populace.  And  in 
an  instant  the  priestly  robe  was  torn  from  the  shoulders  of 
the  Count. 

"  Give  him  a  coat  of  pitch  !"  yelled  Castro.  "  Black  will 
become  his  crimes  better  than  the  color  of  holiness  and  in 
nocence." 

During  all  this  time,  the  firing  was  kept  up  around  the 
Palace,  the  detonations  of  the  Hatuntaqui  rose  above  the 
reports  of  musketry,  and  the  Cathedral  bell  rang  the  death- 
knell  of  the  ill-fated  captive. 

The  tumult,  the  noise,  and  the  confusion  were  so  great, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  notice,  in  one  part  of  the  square 
and  streets,  what  happened  in  another.  The  Friars  of 
Mercy  rushed  back  to  their  Church,  as  soon  as  they  had 
extricated  themselves  from  the  crowds.  Some  were  carried 
back  by  the  men  who  had  lifted  them  up  from  the  stone 
pavements.  The  Superior,  clinging  to  the  Eucharist,  was 
one  of  the  last  to  re-enter  the  holy  edifice  ;  but  even  he  hud 


210  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

not  seen  the  event  which  we  have  just  described  ;  and  not 
until  all  his  brethren  had  returned  and  gathered  around 
him,  ho  found  that  the  Count  was  missing.  Again  he  left 
the  church,  to  find  and  save  his  countryman;  but  the 
shouts  of  hatred  and  revenge  were  suddenly  drowned  by  the 
louder  shouts  of  victory,  which  arose  around  the  Palace. 
The  tide  of  humanity  now  turned  back  to  the  Palace,  arid 
the  anxious  priest  was  seized  by  a  wild  vortex  which  would 
have  swept  him  along  helplessly,  had  he  not,  with  an  ef 
fort,  broken  away  from  the  current,  and  slowly  and  des- " 
pondingly  returned  to  his  church. 

"  Let  us  pray,  my  brethren  ! "  he  said,  overcome  with 
agitation  and  solicitude.  "  Let  us  pray  !  Let  us  pray  for 
the  Christian  cavalier,  whose  soul  will,  at  this  moment,  be 
summoned  to  appear  before  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ! " 

Count  Valverde,  in  the  meantime,  had  been  dragged 
away  toward  the  place  where  the  torches  were  making. 
What  was  the  attack  on  the  Palace  to  Juan  Castro  now  ? 
He  had  other  work  to  do.  The  man  who,  as  he  thought, 
had  doomed  him  to  death,  was  in  his  power,  and  Juan 
Castro  never  forgave.  Joaquin  Valverde's  last  hour  had 
arrrived,  and  he  knew  it.  The  curse  of  the  Dutch  com 
mander's  wife,  and  the  predictions  of  Mama  Rucu  were  to 
be  fulfilled.  His  only  prayer  now  was,  that  the  fearful 
agony  might  be  short. 

The  cry,  "  They  have  taken  the  Spanish  commander," 
was  carried  on  wings  of  lightning  from  group  to  group, 
and  was  answered  with  the  fiercest  shouts  of  triumph  and 
revenge.  "  Death  to  the  assassin  of  Bellido  !  Death  to  the 
author  of  the  great  slaughter !  Kill  him !  Tear  him  to 
pieces!  Burn  him!  Burn  him!" 

Count  Valverde  commended  his  soul  to  God.  He  knew 
that  no  human  power  could  save  him,  and,  brave  as  he  was, 
he  trembled  at  the  approaching  doom.  Deathly  pale,  his 
garments  torn  from  his  body,  his  face  and  bare  breast  cov 
ered  with  blood,  he  was  exposed  to  the  indignities  of  the 


BOOK   III.      THE    REVOLUTION.  211 

exulting  fiends  around  him.  They  tore  handfuls  of  hair 
out  of  his  beard  ;  they  pulled  him  by  his  moustache;  they 
spat  in  his  face,  and  kicked  him  in  the  back  ;  they  struck 
him  over  the  head  with  their  torches;  they  beat  him  and 
pulled  him  until  he  was  no  longer  able  to  maintain  him 
self  on  his  feet.  At  last  the  mob  and  its  victim  had 
reached  the  place  where  a  large  quantity  of  pitch  had  been 
collected,  from  which  that  night's  great  demand  for  torches 
had  been  supplied.  The  fiends  now  stripped  the  Count  of 
the  tattered  remnants  of  his  clothes,  and  covered  him  with 
a  thick  coat  of  pitch,  as  the  Romans  under  Nero  are  said 
to  have  done  to  the  early  Christians. 

"  A  chain  !  A  chain  !"  clamored  some  of  the  ringleaders. 
And  a  chain  was  brought  and  drawn  around  the  body  of 
Valverde,  under  his  arms.  The  other  end  of  the  chain 
was  then  fastened  to  a  strong  hook  in  a  blind  wall  inclos 
ing  an  orchard  or  garden. 

And  now  the  Christian  knight,  who  for  many  a  year  had 
fought  for  the  extermination  of  heretics,  under  the  Prince 
of  Parma,  was  doomed  himself  to  die  the  death  of  a  here 
tic.  Another  instant  of  intense  suspense  and  futile  hope, 
a  last  look  up  and  down  the  street,  vainly  endeavoring  to 
descry  the  approach  of  rescuers  from  somewhere,  a  last 
silent  and  fervent  appeal  to  the  Mother  of  Christ,  and  the 
coat  of  pitch,  in  which  they  had  enwrapped  him,  was 
ablaze,  and  wild  shrieks,  which  even  this  strong  arid  de 
termined  man  could  not  repress,  announced  the  fulfillment 
of  the  terrible  prophecy,  that  "  biting  fire  should  lick  the 
skin  from*  his  flesh,  and  the  flesh  from  bis  bones."  He 
could  not  throw  himself  on  the  ground,  as  the  shortness  of 
the  chain  prevented  it;  but  by  pressing  and  rubbing  his 
body  against  the  wall,  he  instinctively  endeavored  to  put 
out  the  flames.  But  these  convulsive  attempts  only  pro 
tracted  his  sufferings. 

And  the  fiends  danced  around  him,  shouting,  sneering, 
howling,  rejoicing.  Their  numbers  increased  as  the  agony 


212  THE   SECRET   OP   TIIE  ANDES. 

of  the  victim  progressed.  Indians,  too,  fresh  from  their 
victory  at  the  Palace,  infuriated  by  the  struggle,  and  by 
the  sacrifices  it  had  entailed,  now  joined  the  mocking 
crowds.  To  the  subjects  of  Queen  Toa,  the  dying  man  was 
not  the  accidental  representative  of  continuous  authority, 
but  the  impersonation  of  the  Spanish  conquest,  the  embodi 
ment  of  the  foreign  power,  by  which  their  fathers  had  been 
enslaved.  And  in  the  mistaken  idea  that  his  death,  to 
gether  with  the  victory  of  to-night,  would  terminate  their 
subjugation,  they  danced  around  the  dying  Spaniard, 
shouting  the  monotonous  and  half-forgotten  war-songs  of 
their  race.  Valverde's  death  was  to  them  the  confirma 
tion  of  all  their  hopes.  Had  not  the  great  Coya-Priestess, 
whom  the  VHracoehas  called  Mama  Rucu,  predicted  it? 
And  had  she  not  also  predicted  the  restoration  of  the 
Shyri-Inca  Empire?  And  was  not  the  literal  fulfillment 
of  the  one  prediction,  proof  and  guaranty  of  the  speedy 
verification  of  the  other? 

There  was  not  a  friendly  eye  to  look  upon  the  un 
speakable  sufferings  of  Valverde.  None  but  infuriated 
enemies  witnessed  the  murderous  sacrifice.  He  saw  them  but 
for  an  instant,  after  the  pitch  had  been  set  on  fire  ;  for  the 
flames  at  once  deprived  him  of  his  eye-sight;  but  he  heard 
their  yells  and  imprecations,  as  long  as  there  was  a  rem 
nant  of  life  in  his  quivering,  hissing,  roasting  body.  His 
shrieks  gradually  changed  into  moans,  his  moans  into  sighs  i 
then  there  was  an  end  to  all  sounds,  and  only  the  con 
vulsive  motions  of  his  limbs  betokened  that  life  had  not 
been  quite  expelled.  But  even  these  convulsions  ceased, 
and  nothing  but  an  unsightly  mass  of  charred  and  steam 
ing  remains,  was  left  of  what,  but  a  few  hours  ago,  was  the 
noble  person  of  the  commander,  who  had  held  the  Palace 
for  his  master,  the  King  of  Spain.  And  not  a  voice  was 
heard  to  say  :  "  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul." 

The  rest  is  easily  told.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that 
the  wretched  Auditors  were  prevailed  upon  to  come  forth 


BOOK    III.       THE    REVOLUTION.  213 

from  their  hiding  places,  and  to  surrender  to  the  repre 
sentatives  of  the  Cabildo.  Their  joy  upon  learning  that 
their  lives  were  to  be  spared,  was  equaled  only  by  their 
fears  before.  They  laughed  and  wept,  and  chattered  pro 
miscuously,  and  promised  acquiescence  in  anj^thing  the 
Cabildo  might  see  fit  to  ordain.  They  would  suspend  the 
collection  of  the  Alcabala,  and  order  back  the  troops  that 
were  coming  from  Lima.  They  would  co-operate  with  the 
Cabildo  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  the  Home  Government 
to  yield.  They  were  as  obsequious  now  as  they  had  been 
harsh  and  tyrannical  a  few  days  before. 


BOOK  IY. 
THE   REACTION. 

"  T  quando  estaua  ya,  segun  barrunto, 
Un  falso  Eey  no  lejos  de  elejirse. 
La  fuerza  del  tronido  fue  de  modo, 
Que  presto  se  dexo  deshecho  todo." 

PEDRO  DE  ONA,  El  Araiico  Domado, 

Canto  XVI,  p.  280. 


BOOK  IV. 

THE  REA.CTIOISr. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

MORNING. 

THE  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun  were  gilding  the  tops  of 
Mt.  Pichincha,  when  a  weary  traveler,  mounted  on  a  sorry 
jade,  slowly  passed  the  chapel  of  Senor  del  Euen  Viage,  at 
the  southern  entrance  of  the  city.  He  seemed  to  be  asleep, 
or  at  least  struggling  with  sleep,  for  he  nodded  and  reeled 
in  the  saddle,  and  came  very  near  falling  off,  when  his 
horse  suddenly  stopped  in  front  of  a  dram-shop  well  known 
to  travelers  and  their  beasts — the  tienda  of  Dona  Mariquita, 
the  mother  of  Juan  Castro. 

Without  taking  the  trouble  of  tying  his  horse,  which 
showed  no  disposition  to  go  farther  than  compelled  to  go, 
the  traveler,  who  was  covered  with  ponchos,  arid  had  his 
face  and  neck  still  wrapped  up  against  the  cold  air  of  the 
night,  entered  the  shop,  the  door  of  which  stood  open.  He 
looked  around,  but  there  was  nobody  inside.  Female 
voices,  however,  were  heard  in  the  court  outside,  one  of 
which— a  most  melodious  voice — seemed  to  be  struggling 
with  sobs.  The  stranger  began  to  divest  himself  of  such 
of  his  garments  as  had  become  superfluous  since  sunrise, 
then  stretched  his  weary  limbs,  and,  drawing  near  the  back 
door,  endeavored  to  catch  the  conversation  outside. 

"  Yes,  Mother,"  said  the  voice  of  Mercedes,  "  hand  in 
hand  they  stood  before  all  the  people,  he  occupying  her 

(217) 


218  THE    SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

throne,  and  she  mounted  on  his  horse.  He  is  lost  to  me 
forever.  They  say  she  is  beautiful,  that  Indian  Qnei-n,and 
possesses  the  treasure  of  the  Incas.  Her  love  will  make 
him  the  richest  and  greatest  man  in  the  country,  and  he 
will  never  return  to  me." 

"  Well,  child,"  answered  Dona  Mariquita,  "  if  she  blesses 
him  with  her  treasures,  he  will  be  enabled  to  provide  for 
you  and  your  child  as  becomes  the  richest  man  in  the 
country.  You  ought  to  congratulate  yourself  on  his  good 
luck." 

"How  can  you  talk  so,  Mother?  Did  you  ever  know 
what  love  is?  What  would  wealth  be  to  me  if  I  had  to 
lose  him?" 

"  I  know  what  love  is,  Mercedes,  and  for  this  reason  I 
know  that  it  can  not  last.  There  is  an  end  to  all  thing-, 
and  nothing  ends  so  suddenly  as  a  man's  love.  Lose  him 
you  must,  sooner  or  later,  and  it  is  better  to  lose  him  when 
he  can  shower  wealth  into  your  lap,  than  to  be  discharged 
by  him  with  a  miserable  pittance  or  a  scant}'  allowance, 
which  he  will  cut  off  on  his  marriage  to  some  Sefiora. 
Do  not  be  a  fool,  child  !  You  are  still  young  and  beauti- 
iul,  and  many  a  caballero  would  give  a  small  fortune  to 
possess  the  Flower  of  Machangara.  As  to  your  Don  Rob 
erto,  leave  him  to  me.  You  shall  not  suffer  from  his  neg 
lect  or  desertion,  if  these  reports  are  true.  But  I  do  not 
believe  half  of  them.  Who  ever  heard  the  like  before  ?  I 
have  seen  more  wars  and  revolutions  in  my  day  than  you 
will  ever  live  to  see,  but  1  never  heard  such  things  before. 
But  hold  !  There  is  a  customer  in  the  shop.  Go  to  your 
room,  Merccditas,  and  let  us  think  of  breakfast.  Where 
is  that  little  huzzy,  Panchita  !  To  run  away  and  leave  the 
shop  without  telling  me!" 

The  tears  of  Mercedes  flowed  on  as  she  sat  on  the  stone 
bench  in  the  court  of  the  house  and  pondered  over  the 
news  she  had  heard.  What  was  this  Revolution  to  her? 
What  did  she  care  for  the  Alcabala,  or  the  rights  of  the 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  219 

colonists?  Even  the  death  of  Valverde  and  the  many  vic 
tims  of  last  night's  bloody  work  failed  to  touch  her  sympa 
thetic  heart.  There  was  a  sight  more  terrible  to  her 
mind's  eye  than  all  the  scenes  of  slaughter.  It  was  Eob- 
crto  Sanchez,  her  own  Eoberto,  the  father  of  the  child 
which  she  carried  under  her  heart,  seated  upon  the  throne 
of  that  Indian  witch  and  heathenish  impostor,  while  she 
was  mounted  on  .Roberto's  horse,  holding  him  by  the  hand 
and  leading  him  on  to  perdition.  This  whole  Eevolution 
was  now  a  tissue  of  wickedness  in  the  eyes  of  Mercedes.  It 
was  begotten  in  crime,  and  could  only  lead  to  destruction. 
Why  should  these  men  rise  against  their  master,  the  King 
of  Spain,  the  Lord's  anointed,  and  against  the  Ministers  to 
whom  he  had  intrusted  the  government  of  the  colony? 
Such  treason  was  a  crime  and  a  sin,  and  men  engaged  in 
these  nefarious  doings  would  not  shrink  from  breaking  vows 
and  breaking  hearts.  Their  patron-saints  would  abandon 
them  to  the  wiles  of  Indian  witchcraft.  Their  cause  was 
doomed,  and  they  were  doomed  in  this  world  and  the  next. 
Oh,  if  she  could  but  save  her  Eoberto,  and  draw  him  back 
from  the  fearful  abyss  into  which  he  was  about  to  plunge ! 

"Is  it  you,  Don  Tomas,  so  early  in  the  morning?"  said 
Dona  Mariquita.  "  Good  morning  to  you,  Compadre. 
Where  do  you  come  from  ?" 

"  From  my  master's  hacienda  at  Chillogallo.  Give  me 
an  cigua  cjlorinda*  my  dear  Commadre.  This  must  have 
been  a  horrible  night  here  in  Quito." 

"  Horrible,  Compadre  !  Most  horrible  !  Have  you  heard 
of  it  already  ?" 

"  Eeports  came  to  us  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
but  they  were  greatly  mixed,  and  wonderfully  incredib'e." 

And  while  he  was  sipping  his  agua  gloriada,  Doiia  Mari 
quita  entertained  him  with  a  most  inaccurate,  distoi'ted, 
and  exaggerated  account  of  the  events  of  last  night. 

*  IIul  \\  jilcr  with  sugar  boiled  in  it,  and  a  strong  addition  of  rum. 


220  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"  I  can  hardly  trust  my  ears,  Commadrel  If  there  was 
such  bloody  work,  I  must  hurry  to  see  whether  any  harm 
has  befallen  my  master.  Adios,  Commadrel  And  with 
these  words  Don  Tomas  paid  for  his  dram,  and  after  giving 
Dona  Mariquita  the  customary  Spanish  embrace,  he  re 
mounted  his  horse,  and  repaired,  as  fast  as  it  was  possible 
with  such  a  jade,  to  the  city  residence  of  Don  Manuel 
Pared  es. 

Paredes  had  just  returned  home.  Great  as  his  powers  of 
endurance  were,  he  required  rest  after  the  terrible  tension 
and  excitement  of  last  night.  His  schemes  thus  far  had 
met  with  unexpected  success.  He  had  not  failed  in  anything, 
and  even  blind  luck  or  chance  seemed  to  have  declared  in  his 
favor.  If  he  had  planned  and  shaped  the  events  of  yesterday, 
he  could  not  have  shaped  them  more  advantageous  to  his 
purposes.  In  less  than  twenty-four  hours,  he  had  made 
himself  the  most  popular  man  of  Quito  ;  one  of  his  most 
dangerous  rivals  was  out  of  the  way ;  he  had  saved  the 
Marquis,  and  thus  secured  an  indisputable  claim  on  the 
daughter's  gratitude;  the  lives  of  the  Ministers  had  been 
spared,  and  now  he  had  but  to  play  his  cards  properly, 
and  he  might  be  appointed  commander  of  the  armed  forces 
in  place  of  the  unfortunate  Bellido,  or  at  least  name  his 
successor.  The  latter  seemed  to  be  the  safer  course  to  the 
discerning  mind  of  Paredes,  because  it  would  not  expose 
him  to  the  revenge  of  those,  whom,  as  commander,  he 
would  have  to  betray.  It  would  be  better  to  assign 
this  part  of  his  task  to  other  hands,  and  if  he  was  not  very 
much  mistaken,  Don  Pedro  Guzman  Ponce  de  Leon,  was 
the  man  for  it.  His  military  experience  entitled  him  to 
be  first  named  in  this  connection.  Moreover,  he  was  an 
Encomendero,  who  had  great  pecuniary  interests  at  stake. 
He  was  in  debt,  and  would  want  money.  He  belonged  to 
the  party  of  procrastination,  which  would  soon  develope 
into  the  party  of  reaction  ;  and  he  was  a  man  Avithout 
strong  opinions,  and  not  burdened  with  scruples  or  con- 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  221 

victions.  Don  Manuel  would  sound  this  man,  and  prepare 
the  way  for  his  appointment,  if  he  proved  pi-acticable. 
Such  were  the  thoughts  of  Paredes,  as  he  returned  home, 
long  after  the  taking  of  the  Palace,  for  a  few  hours  of  rest. 
He  had  not  yet  reached  his  couch,  when  his  Mayordomo 
burst  into  the  room. 

"  The  Virgin  be  praised,  Don  Tomas.  I  see  success  in 
your  eyes." 

"  Yes,  your  Grace,  the  Marquis  is  on  his  way  to  the  coast. 
Ho  would  surely  have  been  caught,  if  we  had  not  warned 
him." 

"  Let  me  embrace  you,  Don  Tomas,  and  rest  assured  of 
my  eternal  gratitude." 

"He  sends  his  best  love  to  your  Grace.  He  swore  that 
he  would  never  forget  how  much  he  owed  to  your  Lordship. 
He  wanted  to  write  a  note  to  his  daughter,  but  I  would 
not  let  him.  I  insisted  that  every  minute  was  precious, 
and  so  he  just  dashed  these  lines  on  a  piece  of  paper,  before 
he  mounted,  and  told  me  to  give  it  to  Senorita." 

Paredes  took  the  paper  which  the  Mayordomo  had 
handed  to  him.  It  contained  these  words:  "Take  my 
place  under  the  Royal  Commission  and  confer  with  Don 
Manuel  Paredes,  as  to  whom  I  absolve  you  from  all  obliga 
tions  of  secrecv.  Your  loving  father." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    SECRET   OP    DOLORES   SOLANDO. 

THE  guards  had  been  withdrawn  from  the  house 
of  the  Marquis.  With  the  dawn  of  day  they  had  been 
ordered  off.  A  litter,  carried  by  four  men  and  fol 
lowed  by  servants,  both  male  and  female,  moved  out  of  the 
door  in  the  direction  of  the  neighboring  Plaza  of  Santa 
Clara,  as  Don  Tornas  drew  near  the  house.  The  Mar- 


222  THE   SECRET    OP   THE   ANDES. 

chioness,  partly  of  her  own  volition,  and  partly  following 
the  advice  of  her  daughter,  had  determined  to  take  refuge 
in  the  Nunnery  of  Santa  Clara.  Her  health,  would  prob 
ably  not  have  resisted  another  shock  such  as  the  intrusion 
into  her  house  of  an  armed  mob,  searching  for  her  hus 
band.  She  would  stay  at  the  convent  until  the  storm  had 
blown  over.  Dofia  Catita  accompanied  her  on  foot  to  see 
her  properly  installed,  and  then  to  return  to  the  mansion- 
house,  which  Dolores  refused  to  leave.  Dona  Catita  would 
have  preferred  the  security  of  the  Convent,  but,  as  her 
niece  insisted  on  remaining  at  the  house,  come  what  may, 
Aunt  Catita  considered  it  her  duty  not  to  leave  her  entirely 
alone.  But  she  hud  exacted  a  promise  from  Dolores,  that 
at  the  first  symptoms  of  a  new  outbreak,  they  should  join 
the  Marchioness  at  the  Convent. 

It  had  been  a  trying  night  to  Dolores  ;  a  night  that  had 
made  her  older  in  mind,  and  colder  at  heart.  The  news  of 
the  death  of  Valverde  had  struck  her  dumb.  Speechless 
she  had  listened  to  the  tale  of  horror,  which  she  learned 
shortly  after  the  occurrence,  from  one  of  the  Cabildo-men 
detailed  to  guard  her  house.  At  first,  she  seemed  incapa 
ble  of  comprehending  him,  and  not  until  he  had  repeated 
his  story,  she  realized  what  it  meant.  She  beckoned  him 
to  depart,  and  then  sat  motionless  and  brooding  for  a  long 
while.  But  she  shed  no  tears.  Aunt  Catita,  who  was  with 
her,  respected  her  silence,  and  waited  to  be  spoken  to. 
Dolores  had  buried  a  hope,  and  ehe  keenly  felt  the  disap 
pointment.  A  few  days  before  his  death,  he  had  asked  for 
her  hand,  and  she  had  promised  to  consider  his  offer.  Sup 
ported  by  the  favor  of  the  Viceroy,  he  would  make  a  fortune 
in  the  Colonies,  would  make  her  a  real  countess,  and  take  her 
with  him  to  Spain,  where  she  might  have  dazzled  the 
Court  with  her  wit  and  brilliancy.  And  now  that  hope 
was  destroyed  ;  and  the  horizon  of  her  existence  would 
probably  remain  forever  bounded  by  the  impassable  mount 
ains  of  Quito.  But  this  was  not  all.  It  had  become  a 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  223 

dreadful  certainty  to  her  that  a  fatality  hung  over  her, 
which  she  could  not  avert,  and  that  the  course  of  her  life 
was  influenced  by  a  dark  and  mysterious  power,  the  de 
crees  of  which  could  not  be  resisted.  "Aunt  Catita,"  she 
said,  after  a  long  pause,  folding  herself  closely  in  her 
shawl,  for  the  coldness  of  the  night  began  to  be  felt  in  the 
room,  which,  like  all  the  houses  cf  Quito,  was  without  a 
Btove  or  fireplace,  "  will  you  not  go  to  bed  ?" 

"  Who  can  go  to  bed  amidst  such  horrors,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Your  health  will  suffer,  Auntie.  You  have  suffered  such 
a  fright  during  the  evening,  and  now  this  new  horror; 
you  must  be  cold  as  ice.  Go  to  bed,  Auntie,  and  warm 
yourself." 

"  The  poor  Count !  "  said  Dona  Catita.  "  What  a  brave 
gentleman  he  was.  And  to  think  of  ife;  but  two  days 
ago,  he  was  here  full  of  hope  and  promise,  and  full  of  love 
for  you.  Now  he  is  dead.  And  such  a  horrible  death  !" 

"  My  love  is  death,  Aunt  Catita,"  said  Dolores,  coldly, 
"  Do  you  remember  how  my  husband  was  brought  into 
this  house  ;  nay,  into  this  very  room  ?" 

"  Bemember  ?  How  in  the  name  of  the  Virgin  could  I 
ever  forget  it  ?" 

"  Well,  he  was  my  husband.  The  Count  might  have 
been  my  husband.  I  confess  to  you  that  1  frequently 
thought  of  him  as  my  husband — and  behold  his  end  ! 
There  is  a  dark  power  over  me,  Aunt  Catita,  which  I  must 
not  provoke.  If  I  do  marry,  I  must  not  niarry  the  man  I 
love,  and  I  must  not  love  the  man  I  marry." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Doloritas.     You  talk  wildly." 

"Do  I,  Auntie?  This  is  news  to  me.  No,  Auntie, 
I  am  clearly  aware  of  what  1  say,  and  I  mean  it.  If 
you  knew  what  I  know,  you  would  not  say  that  I  talk 
wildly." 

"  You  alarm  me,  child.     What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  what  I  have  never  told  a  living  soul  before," 


224  THE    SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

she  said  solemnly,  "  except  my  confessor,  who  said  I  should 
not  fear  as  long  as  I  remained  worthy  of  invoking  the  aid 
of  the  Virgin  and  the  Saints  against  the  powers  of  dark 
ness." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Doloritas,  explain  youself.  You 
make  me  tremble  from  head  to  foot."  And  pale,  and 
shivering,  Dona  Catita  approached  her  niece,  and  took  both 
her  hands  in  hers.  "  O  what  a  frightful  night  this  is ! 
There!  Do  you  hear?" 

"I  hear  nothing,  Auntie.  Compose  yourself.  They 
have  taken  the  Palace,  and  the  bloody  work  seems  to  be 
over." 

"  Yes,  but  there  are  things  to  fear,  other  than  murder 
and  bloodshed,  and  you  have  made  me  fear  for  you." 

"  Not  for  me,  Auntie.  It  is  not  I  for  whom  there  is 
cause  to  fear,  but  for  the  man  I  should  marry,  or  wish  to 
marry." 

"  O  tell  me  what  you  mean  ! "  And  kneeling  by  her  niece's 
side,  she  threw  her  arms  around  her,  and  nestling  to  her, 
expectantly  hung  upon  her  lips. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  do  right  in  telling  you  ;  and 
surely  I  should  not  have  told  you,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
horrors  of  this  night.  Listen  !  Many,  many  years  ago — I 
was  a  very  young  girl,  almost  a  child,  then — I  took  a  walk 
or  rather  a  romp  with  a  whole  bevy  of  girls,  followed  by 
their  Indian  maids  up  the  mountain.  Panchita  Olraos, 
Carmen  Aguirre,  Mariquita  Hemos,  Conchita  Valdez,  and 
others  were  of  the  party.  We  had  bathed  in  the  Cantera, 
and  to  get  warm  again,  we  dashed  up  the  hill,  ran  races  on 
the  plateau,  and  acted  so  wildly  and  improperly,  that  we 
should  have  been  dreadfully  ashamed  of  ourselves,  if  any 
body  had  seen  us.  But  you  know  the  mountain  is  always 
lonely,  and  so  nothing  happened  to  disturb  our  merry 
making,  until  we  found  ourselves  unexpectedly,  almost 
in  front  of  Mama  Rucu's  cottage." 

Aunt  Catita  gave  a  start,  and  nestled  more  closely  to  her 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  225 

niece.  The  elder  lady  at  this  moment  was  the  picture  of 
trepidation,  which  strangely  contrasted  with  the  quiet  re 
pose  and  imperturbable  self-possession  of  Dolores. 

"A  bantering  discussion  soon  arose,  as  to  which  of  us 
would  have  the  courage,  to  have  her  fortune  told.  I  be 
lieve  if  we  had  all  gone  together,  there  would  have  been  no 
talk  of  fear.  But  Carmen  Aguirre  said  she  would  not  en 
ter  that  cottage  alone  for  the  world.  To  this  Panchita  Ol- 
mos  replied  (I  remember  the  conversation  as  if  it  had  been 
yesterday),  that  that  was  quite  natural,  as  no  white  woman 
would  dare  to  enter  that  cottage  alone.  I  then  told  them 
not  to  be  too  sure  of  that ;  for  I  knew  one  who  would.  At 
this  there  was  a  general  laugh,  and  Panchita  called  me  a 
braggadocio,  and  dared  me  to  verify  my  words.  Now,  you 
know,  Auntie,  dear,  if  I  have  a  weakness,  it  consists  in  a 
perhaps  unfeminine  desire  to  show  that  I  am  not  afraid." 

"  Yes  ;  aj)d  it  will  be  the  death  of  you  some  day,  if  you 
persist  in  it.  You  might  have  been  killed  this  morning, 
when  you  insisted  on  keeping  the  shutter  open  and  looking 
out,  while  they  were  throwing  stones  at  our  windows.  But 
proceed,  my  darling  !  " 

"  I  accepted  the  challenge  at  once,  and  said  I  would  go. 
The  girls  did  not  believe  it:  and  so  I  told  them  that  not  I, 
but  probably  they  would  be  the  cowards,  and  run  away 
while  I  was  inside.  If  they  had  any  sense  of  honor,  they 
would  wait  for  me.  And  with  these  words  I  started  to  go. 
Had  the  girls  really  thought  that  I  intended  to  go  in,  they 
would  have  stopped  me ;  but  as  they  expected  I  would 
turn  back  at  the  door,  they  allowed  me  to  proceed.  I  must 
confess,  Auntie,  that  I  felt  very  faint,  when  I  came  close  to 
the  old  witch's  hut ;  but  1  should  have  died  rather  than 
retrace  my  steps.  As  soon  as  the  girls  saw  that  I  was  in 
earnest,  they  became  frightened,  and  called  me  back,  nay 
begged  me  to  come  back  ;  but  I  merely  courtesied  to  them, 
and  entered  the  hut." 


226  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

"  Holy  Virgin  protect  us ! "  exclaimed  Aunt  Catita,  cross 
ing  herself.  ''  How  could  you,  ray  child?" 

"At  first  I  saw  little  or  nothing,  but  when  my  eyes  had 
become  reconciled  to  the  smoke  and  darkness  inside,  I  saw 
Mama  .Rucu.  She  stood  before  a  kettle  boiling  over  a  fire 
of  aromatic  woods.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  calabash  which 
she  filled  from  the  kettle.  Her  other  hand  rested  on  her 
stick  or  crutch.  Her  back  was  turned  to  me.  She  could 
not  have  seen  or  heard  me,  for  I  had  entered  noiselessly. 
Yet  she  knew  I  was  there." 

"Santa  Maria!"  interposed  Dona  Catita,  shivering  by 
her  niece's  side. 

"At  first  she  did  not  turn  around,  but  said  in  Quichua: 
'Young  blood!  Young  blood!  But  cold  blood!  cold 
blood  !  Will  draw  blood,  will  draw  blood  ! '  Not  knowing 
that  these  words  were  intended  for  me,  I  stood  irresolute, 
whether  to  make  my  presence  known,  or  whether  to  turn 
back.  But  my  courage  soon  wilted,  arid  I  decided  to  leave 
unobserved,  when  to  my  amazement,  the  old  woman,  still 
without  turning  her  face  to  me,  said:  '  Stay!  Thou  hast 
come  to  have  thy  fortune  told.  Wait  till  1  give  thee  the 
clue  to  thy  future,  as  I  see  it  now.'  And  then  she  turned 
around.  Auntie,  it  was  horrible  to  have  those  burning, 
piercing,  rolling  eyes  on  me.  I  felt  as  if  1  should  faint,  but 
she  pointed  her  crutch  at  me,  and  it  seemed  to  uphold  mer 
as  if  by  some  magic  power.  '  Young  woman  ! '  she  said, 
'  Death  is  in  thy  hand ;  not  to  thee,  but  to  him  to  whom 
thou  givest  it  in  marriage.  Even  thy  thought  of  marriage 
is  death  to  him  whom — " 

At  this  juncture  Aunt  Catita  fell  into  an  hysteric  fit,  and 
with  a  wild  scream,  followed-  by  sobs  and  tears  and  laugh 
ter,  dropped  on  the  floor.  The  excitement  and  horrors  of 
the  last  twentj'-four  hours  had  momentarily  overpowered 
her.  Dolores  called  in  her  attendants,  and  with  their  aid 
soon  restored  her  aunt  to  consciousness,  but  the  thread  of 
the  narrative  was  not  resumed  that  night. 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  227 

And  now  the  night  has  worn  away  at  last;  the  sun  has 
arisen  ;  Dofia  Catita  has  accompanied  the  Marchioness  to 
the  Convent,  and  the  Mayordorno  of  Manuel  Puredes  pre 
sents  himself  to  Dolores,  and  receives  the  generous  thanks 
of  the  daughter,  whose  father  he  has  saved. 


CHAPTEE   III. 

HOW  THE  NEWS  WAS  RECEIVED. 

On  the  very  clay  when  the  Cabildo  of  Guayaquil  on  the 
coast,  was  about  to  make  official  proclamation  of  its  adher 
ence  to  the  policy  of  resistance  inagurated  at  Quito,  the 
movement  was  nipped  in  the  bud,  by  the  arrival  of  Don 
Pedro  de  Arana,  whom  the  Viceroy  had  sent  to  enforce 
obedience  to  the  royal  decrees  in  the  ancient  Kingdom  of 
Quito.     Arana  came  with  an  armed  force,  small  in  numbers, 
but  well  equipped,  and  sufficient  to  overawe  the  malcon 
tents  at  Guayaquil,     He  had  arrived  in  the  nick  of  time. 
He  was   informed    at   once  of  what  had  been  projected. 
There  was  an  abundence  of  informers.    The  loudest  rebels  of 
yesterday  endeavored  to  exculpate  themselves  by  informing 
on  their  accomplices.     But  Arana  was  too  prudent  to  alarm 
the    whole  kingdom  by  punishing  mere  intentions.     He 
accorded   to   every  one    a    most  gracious   reception.     He 
seemed  to  be  perfectly  deaf  to  all  evil  reports.     He  acted 
as    if   nothing    at   all    bad    happened.      He    took    it  for 
granted  that  the  people  among  whom  he  had  arrived,  were 
indisputably  loyal.     He  judged  everyone   by  his  own  pro 
fessions,  and  thus  he  saved  Guayaquil,  and  with  it  his  base 
of  operations.     His  force  was  so  small,  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  turn  men  into  enemies,  whom  he  expected  to  en 
list  as  his  friends.     His  policy  succeeeded  admirably.     The 
men  who  would  have  drawn  their  swords  against  him  two 


228  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

or  three  days  ago,  proclaimed  their  anxious  readiness  to 
serve  under  his  command. 

A  few  days  after  the  arrival  of  Arana.  the  Marquis  de 
Solando  arrived  at  Guayaquil,  and  by  his  high  title  and 
the  fame  of  his  great  wealth,  gave  tone  and  encourage 
ment  to  the  Ko3*alist  cause.  Yet  it  was  no  child's  play  to 
crush  the  rebellion.  With  the  whole  interior  of  the  coun 
try  in  arms,  protected  by  the  wretchedness  of  its  roads 
and  by  almost  inaccessible  mountain-passes,  which  a  few 
men  might  defend  against  a  whole  army,  policy,  negotia 
tions,  intrigue,  bribery,  promises,  and  diplomacy  would  be 
more  effective  than  a  military  campaign. 

%.%*****%. 

Still  worse  than  at  Guayaquil,  the  popular  cause  fared 
in  the  towns  of  Peru  proper,  south  of  the  river  Tumbez, 
and  outside  of  the  Kingdom  of  Quito.  The  Viceroy's 
hands  fell  heavily  on  those  who  meditated  resistance.  At 
Callao,  the  port  of  Lima,  the  spirit  of  disaffection  had 
spread  to  the  fleet.  But  the  Viceroy  seized  some  of  the 
officers  and  leading  citizens  and  ordered  their  immediate 
execution.  Men  were  executed  at  Cuzco,  Areqnipa,  La 
Paz,  and  other  towns,  without  trial  or  any  of  the  formali 
ties  of  civil  or  military  law.  The  spirit  of  disobedience 
was  crushed  before  it  had  time  to  grow.  Terror  stricken, 
the  Peruvian  colonists  banished  all  thoughts  of  resisting 
the  collection  of  the  Alcabala.  The  rebellion,  thus  far,  was 
confined  to  the  city  of  Quito;  yet,  if  it  should  spread  to 
the  towns  between  Quito  and  Guayaquil,  and  if  it  should 
prove  successful  there,  an  outbreak  in  Peru  would  become 
inevitable.  On  the  defeat  of  the  rebels  at  Quito,  there 
fore,  depended  the  maintenance  of  arbitrary  government 
in  the  Viceroyalty.  Thus  every  eye  turned  to  the  Capital 
of  the  ancient  Shyris,  where  the  fate  of  those  rights  and 
privileges  was  to  be  decided  which  had  been  stamped  out' 
in  Spain,  under  King  Philip's  father,  on  the  bloody  field 
of  Villalar. 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  229 

And  how  was  the  news  received  at  Puembo,  where  Cur- 
rera  watched  at  the  bedside  of  his  dying  uncle?  It  is  high 
time  that  we  should  return  to  our  young  friend. 

Can-era  found  the  old  gentleman  in  a  stupor,  from 
which  his  attendants  thought  he  would  never  awake.  To 
every  body's  surprise,  however,  he  rallied  toward  evening, 
and  gladly  recognized  and  welcomed  his  nephew.  The 
patient's  condition  even  seemed  to  improve.  For  hours  at 
a  time  he  would  feel  relieved,  and  was  able  to  converse 
with  Can-era ;  to  give  directions  to  his  Mayordomo  concern 
ing  the  management  of  the  estate;  to  listen  to  the  news 
from  Quito,  for  which  messengers  were  sent  to  and  fro  reg 
ularly,  and  to  comment  upon  it;  to  listen  to  the  consola 
tions  of  his  spiritual  adviser,  and  to  say  a  kind  word  or  to 
administer  reprimands  to  his  servants  and  Indians.  Then, 
again,  he  would  relapse  into  a  stupor,  which  lasted  for 
hours.  And  so  the  days  wore  on  and  swelled  into  weeks, 
and  still  Carrera  \vas  chained  to  the  bedside  of  the  dying 
man,  who  would  not  allow  him  to  leave  the  room  longer 
than  necessary  for  a  little  exercise  in  the  open  air. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week  Carrera  sent  a  letter  to  his 
friend  Roberto  Sanchez,  requesting  him  for  the  return  of 
Toa's  silver  moon,  as  he  wished  to  write  to  her.  It  was 
not  without  a  pang  of  jealousy  that  he  had  heard  of  the 
manner  in  which  Toa  and  Eoberto  had  appeared  before 
the  people.  And  he  had  received  no  explanation  of  this 
strange  demonstration.  Had  Toa  abandoned  him  already  ? 
Had  she  transferred  her  affections  to  Eoberto?  Had  she 
taken  umbrage  at  Can-era's  departure  from  Quito?  Her 
own  solemn  declaration  that  she  would  subordinate  her 
love  to  what  she  considered  her  duty  to  her  people  seemed 
to  confirm  this  supposition.  Nervously  he  waited  for  an 
answer  from  Sanchez,  but  no  answer  came.  The  Cabiklo 
had  sent  Roberto's  father  to  Latacunga,  Ambato.  and  Rio- 
bamba  to  organize  the  forces  of  the  Revolution  there.  He 
had  taken  his  son  along  as  his  trusty  lieutenant,  and  the 


230  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

latter  had  left  no  word  as  to  when  he  would  return.  After 
another  week  a  letter  came  from  .Roberto,  full  of  affection 
ate  reproaches  and  insisting  that  Carrera  should  return  to 
Quito,  if  be  had  not  done  so  already.  It  also  stated  that 
the  writer  was  organizing  a  company  at  Latacunga,  and 
would  have  to  remain  there  for  some  time.  Carrera  sent 
a  messenger  to  that  city  with  another  letter,  but  both  mes 
senger  and  letter  returned.  The  man  brought  the  news 
that  Roberto  had  departed  for  the  neighborhood  of  Am- 
bato,  in  order  to  collect  horses  for  a  cavalry  corps  which 
was  then  in  process  of  forming.  Having  no  specific  in 
structions  the  man  did  not  feel  authorized  to  follow  him, 
uncertain  whether  or  where  he  should  find  him.  Thus 
another  week  was  lost,  and,  in  the  meantime,  great  changes 
were  preparing  at  Quito,  and  a  change  was  developing  in 
the  mind,  feelings,  and  opinions  of  Carrera. 

To  the  former  we  shall  refer  briefly.  Paredes  had  car 
ried  his  point.  Pedro  Guzman  Ponce  de  Leon  had  been 
appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the  armed  forces  of  the 
Municipality,  and  enlisted  a  great  many  men,  whom  he  was 
preparing  for  active  service.  But  these  men  were  kept  at 
Quito,  where  many  of  them  grew  tired  of  idleness,  or 
demoralized  by  inactivity  and  by  the  fierce  contest  of  con 
flicting  opinions  which  raged  around  them.  The  party  of 
action  advocated  a  forward  movement.  The  Quito  forces 
should  march  to  fliobamba  and  Guaranda  and  defend  the 
mountain-passes  by  which  Arana  was  to  approach.  There 
they  would  defeat  him  surely,  and  then  might  follow  him 
into  the  low-lands,  covered  with  tropical  forests,  where  it 
would  be  easy  to  annihilate  a  beaten  foe.  Guayaquil 
should  be  taken  from  him,  and  communication  with  the  sea 
being  once  established,  the  success  of  the  movement  would 
be  secured.  Pedro  Guzman  approved  of  all  this  in  theory, 
but  he  did  not  act  upon  it  in  practice.  He  always  pre 
pared,  but  never  was  ready.  He  vowed  great  things,  but 
never  performed  them.  And  the  Indians,  too,  were  back- 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  231 

ward.  The  resolutions  which  the  Municipality  had  adopted 
during  the  night  of  the  bloody  conflict,  had  never  been 
publicly  proclaimed.  Endless  negotiations  followed.  The 
men  of  the  Cabildo  wanted  gold,  nominally  to  carry  on 
the  war,  in  reality,  however,  to  enrich  themselves.  The 
Indians  refused  to  furnish  it  until  their  rights  should  be 
secured,  and  the  first  steps  taken  to  carry  out  the  pro 
gramme  of  Cundurazu  and  Bellido.  In  the  meantime  the 
doubters,  who  disputed  the  existence  of  the  treasure,  had 
it  all  their  own  way.  The  best  men  of  the  .Revolutionary 
party  had  been  skillfully  removed  from  Quito.  Sanchez 
had  been  sent  to  the  south,  and  Olmos  to  the  northern 
provinces,  nominally  to  organize  the  Revolution,  in  reality, 
however,  to  be  out  of  the  way.  In  the  meantime  the  days 
wore  on,  the  precious  moments  were  wasted  and  the  party 
of  reaction  slowly  but  irresistibl}"  continued  to  recover  the 
ground  it  had  lost,  and  to  confound  and  demoralize  its  an 
tagonists.  Still,  all  was  not  lost.  A  bloody  event  of  start 
ling  magnitude  soon  rallied  the  earnest  and  the  honest 
men  and  gave  fresh  impulse  to  the  popular  cause.  The 
nature  of  this  event  will  be  disclosed  in  the  following 
chapters. 

Equally  fatal  to  the  aspirations  of  our  heroine,  however, 
was  the  change  in  the  opinions  and  feelings  of  Carrera. 
Had  his  uncle  died  shortly  after  the  nephew's  arrival  at 
Puembo,  what  a  different  course  would  the  events  of  this 
story  have  taken.  But  the  patient  lived  and  lingered  on, 
and  impressed  upon  the  unformed  mind  arid  character  of 
Carrera  the  stamp  of  an  old  man's  well-matured  opinions, 
deep-rooted  prejudices,  and  vast  experience. 

The  murder  of  Bellido,  he  granted,  was  a  crime,  a  great 
crime.  But  who  had  ordered  it?  Had  it  been  proved  that 
it  was  the  work  of  the  Audience?  Might  not  a  private 
grudge,  an  adverse  party  to  a  law-suit,  or  a  love  intrigue 
have  been  the  moving  cause?  Those  reckless  soldiers 
would  assassinate  any  man  for  a  sum  of  money.  And 


232  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

even  if  the  murder  was  committed  at  the  instigation  of  the 
Audience,  should  it  follow  that  we  must  rise  against  the 
King,  because  some  of  his  ministers  had  abused  the  power 
confided  to  them?  And  what  right  had  the  popular  party 
to  complain  of  murders  ?  Was  not  the  murder  of  Valverde 
an  act  infinitely  more  cruel,  wanton,  and  fiendish  than  the 
assassination  of  Bellido? 

From  this  point  Carrera's  uncle  passed  on  to  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  the  rebellion,  and  he  supported  his  argu 
ments  with  heavy  artillery  from  the  arsenal  of  Peruvian 
history.  In  the  times  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro  the  colonists  had 
rebelled  against  the  home  government.  They  would  not 
submit  to  the  royal  ordinances  declaring  that  the  Indians 
should  be  treated  as  freemen.  Gonzalo  Pizarro  was  made 
Protector  of  Peru,  the  colonists  flocked  to  his  standards 
and  defeated  the  Viceroy,  who  was  slain  on  the  fit-Id  of  Aiia 
Quito;  and  yet,  when  the  Eoyal  Commissioner  La  Gasca 
came,  alone  and  empty  handed,  he  soon  had  an  army  under 
him,  Gonzalo  Pizarro  was  ignominously  routed,  his  whole 
army  deserting  him  at  the  critical  moment,  and  the  leaders 
expiated  their  treason  on  the  scaffold. 

And  what  was  the  fate  of  the  rebellion  of  Hernandez 
Jiron,  who  had  swept  everything  before  him,  and  appeai'ed 
almost  under  the  very  gates  of  Lima  ?  The  whole  countr}T 
was  disaffected.  Hernandez  Jiron  made  himself  the  repre 
sentative  of  the  popular  grievances.  He  had  an  army  under 
his  command  consisting  of  men  who  had  grown  old  in  the 
art  of  war.  He  had  defeated  the  forces  of  the  government 
in  several  engagements.  And  yet  he  failed  and  died  a 
traitor's  death  at  the  hands  of  the  executioner.  Spain  was 
the  greatest  military  power  of  the  globe.  Her  armies  had 
swept  over  Europe.  Her  resources  were  inexhaustible. 
Would  the  Creoles  of  Quito,  inexperienced  in  the  art  of 
war,  and  divided  in  their  own  councils,  be  able  to  cope 
with  the  colossal  strength  of  the  mother  country?  It  was 
a  childish  dream,  a  ridiculous  vision,  an  ignis  fatuus  which 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  233 

could  only  lead  to  destruction.     Even  temporary  successes 
could  not  avert  the  final  doom. 

The  imposition  of  the  Alcabala  may  have  been  a  nominal 
breach  of  a  royal  grant ;  but  that  grant  had  been  given  in 
ignorance  of  the  future  wealth  and  greatness  of  Peru. 
Every  age  has  its  own  necessities,  and  one  King  can  not 
legislate  for  unborn  generations,  because  he  can  not  fore 
see  the  necessities  of  his  successors.  He  may  have  been  a 
wise  man  in  his  day  ;  but  lhat  day  has  passed,  and  his  suc 
cessor,  although  bound  to  revere  the  memory  of  the  Kings 
before  him,  must  be  the  judge  of  his  own  exigencies,  and 
of  his  own  times. 

An  alliance  with  the  Indians!  .Ridiculous!  The  Alcab 
ala  might  be  burdensome,  the  loss  of  their  Indian  slaves 
would  be  ruinous,  to  the  colonists.  Surely,  they  would  sub 
mit  to  the  Alcabala  a  thousand  times,  rather  than  release 
the  Indians,  who  tilled  their  lands,  worked  their  mines, 
herded  their  cattle,  and  served  in  their  factories.  And 
what  assistance  could  those  miserable  beings  render  in  case 
of  war?  Unacquainted  with  the  use  of  firearms,  abject 
and  cowardly,  broken  by  an  iron  rule  into  blind  submission, 
they  might  murder  prisoners,  slay  the  wounded,  and  rob 
the  dead,  but  how  should  they  withstand  the  shock  of  in 
fantry,  or  the  charge  of  cavalry  ?  Their  treasure,  you  say? 
It  is  a  myth,  Julio,  a  nursery-tale  with  which  we  were 
amused  in  the  days  of  our  childhood,  a  legend  resting  on 
mere  suppositions  that  have  never  been  verified. 

At  this  juncture,  Carrera  interposed  a  remonstrance.  Ho 
had  not  been  pledged  to  secrecy  as  to  the  existence  of  the 
treasure,  and  he  gave  his  uncle  a  detailed  account  of  all  he 
had  seen  in  the  cave.  The  old  man  listened  to  him  in 
amazement,  which  soon  gave  way  to  an  air  of  incredulity. 
Without  pursuing  the  subject  of  the  treasure,  he  asked  him 
how  he  had  become  acquainted  with  Toa.  Carrera  said 
that  he  had  met  her  at  Mama  Rucu's  cottage.  His  uncle 
then  inquired  what  had  taken  him  there.  This  question 


234  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

was  very  embarrassing,  but  he  concluded  to  make  a  clean 
breast  of  his  past  delinquencies,  and  to  throw  himself  on 
the  charitable  forbearance  of  his  uncle.  Nevertheless,  he 
kept  the  promise  of  secrecy  which  he  had  made  to  Mama 
.Rucu,  and  said  nothing  of  his  visions  during  the  memor 
able  night  he  had  spent  at  her  cottage.  But  he  showed 
him  the  letter  with  which  Queen  Toa  had  accompanied  her 
present  or  loan.  The  old  man  read  it,  and  reread  it,  and 
then  fell  into  a  long  silence,  which  was  at  last  broken  by 
Carrera,  who  asked  his  forgiveness  for  having  allowed  him 
self  to  be  led  astray  by  the  temptations  of  the  card-table. 

"  That  you  have  played  recklessly  and  perhaps  foolishly, 
Julio,"  said  the  old  man  after  another  pause,  •'  is  but  too 
natural  for  a  young  Caballero  of  your  station.  It  was  an 
experience  that  every  gentleman  must  go  through,  and  I 
hope  you  have  profited  by  it.  If  I  blame  you  for  anything, 
it  is  for  not  having  confided  in  me,  your  best  and  only 
friend,  as  you  should  have  done.  But  I  preceive  with 
amazement  that  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be  drawn 
into  a  most  dangerous  complication,  from  which  you  must 
be  extricated.  Now  listen  to  the  advice  of  an  old  man, 
who  looks  upon  you  as  his  own  child.  You  are  my  heir, 
Julio  de  Carrera.  I  have  kept  the  knowledge  of  this 
fact  from  you  till  now,  for  reasons  which  you  will  under 
stand  ;  but  as  you  would  know  it  soon  after  I  am  gone,  I 
might  as  well  tell  you  now,  that  your  future  is  secured,  and 
that  you  will  be  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Quito!" 

"Uncle!" 

"  No  thanks !  No  protestations !  If  you  want  to  prove 
your  gratitude,  follow  my  advice.  This  is  all  the  return  I 
ask.  Your  path  through  life  will  be  easy  and  pleasant. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  be  what  I  have  been.  Apply 
yourself  to  the  management  of  the  estates,  which  will  be 
yours,  and,  as  you  are  a  lover  of  books,  you  will  not  lack 
occupation  for  your  leisure  hours.  Flee  from  the  dangers 


BOOK    IV.      THE   REACTION.  235 

that  your  improvidence  has  conjured  up.  The  treasures 
of  that  Indian  witch  would  prove  your  inevitable  destruc 
tion.  You  do  not  need  them.  Where  is  the  nobleman  of 
Quito  that  would  not  envy  your  position  ?  With  the  ex 
ception  of  the  Marquis  of  Solando,  there  will  not  be  a 
wealthier  man  in  the  land.  What  more  do  you  want? 
What  wishes  can  you  entertain  that  my  wealth  will  not 
gratify?  The  possession  and  enjoyment  of  what  I  shall 
leave  you  nobody  will  dispute.  What  SHE  may  give  you 
would  involve  you  in  endless  troubles.  It  would  be  taken 
from  you  and  prove  your  destruction  in  the  end.  You  can 
not  marry  a  woman  who,  by  the  very  claim  she  sets  up,  has 
placed  herself  in  an  attitude  of  rebellion  against  our  Lord, 
the  King  of  Spain,  and  the  security  and  welfare  of  this 
colony.  Her  life  is  forfeited  to  the  executioner,  and  her 
treasures  to  the  Crown  ;  and  even  if  she  would  wish  to 
subside  into  obscurity,  it  would  be  too  dangerous  for  the 
public  peace  to  let  her  live.  For  the  Yirgin's  sake,  Julio, 
1  shudder  when  I  think  of  the  danger  with  which  you 
have  played.  And  }"et  there  must  be  more  than  you  tell 
me.  You  have  made  love  to  her,  have  you  not  ?  She  pre 
tends  to  reciprocate  your  affection  in  order  to  inveigle  you 
into  certain  ruin.  Tell  mo  all,  my  son.  iieep  nothing 
from  me.  The  lips  of  a  dying  man  arc  sealed,  Julio. 
Your  secret,  if  it  is  a  secret,  will  die  with  me." 

What  resistance  could  Carrera  offer  to  such  an  appeal? 
He  confessed  how  Toa  had  won  his  heart,  and  how  she  re 
ciprocated  his  affection. 

"  Poor,  deluded  youth  !"  continued  his  uncle,  "  how  child 
ish  and  unsophisticated  you  are!  Do  you  not  see  that  she 
has  played  the  same  game  with  others — that  she  has  al 
lured  othei'S  with  false  hopes  of  her  love  and  treasures,  in 
order  to  use  them  for  her  ambitious  purposes?  Did  she 
not  appear  in  public  with  your  intimate  friend,  Roberto 
Sanchez?  Would  Sanchez,  who  is  a  shrewd  fellow,  have 
consented  to  lend  himself  to  such  demonstrations,  if  she 


236  THE   SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

bad  not  played  with  his  affections  and  fired  his  susceptible 
heart?  Her  wiles  may  deceive  young  men,  but  they  are 
as  plain  as  daylight  to  me.  She  wants  a  party  among  the 
nobility,  and  she  endeavors  to  build  it  up  by  turning  the 
heads  of  our  young  caballeros,  while  stimulating  their 
greed  with  promises  of  her  gold.  They  will  secure  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other.  She  will  ruin  and  betray  them." 

Here  the  old  man  fell  into  a  stupor,  and  Carrera  had 
time  to  ponder  over  what  he  had  heard.  His  uncle's  words 
had  sunk  deep  into  the  young  man's  heart.  They  had  in 
stilled  the  poison,  which  did  its  work. 

On  the  next  day  the  conversation  was  resumed.  "I  am 
afraid,  Julio,"  said  the  patient,  "that  you  will  be  involved 
in  great  trouble.  As  soon  as  this  revolution  shall  be 
crushed — and,  believe  me,  it  will  be  crushed — searching  in 
quiries  will  be  made  into  its  causes  and  into  the  conduct  of 
all  that  were  directly  or  indirectly  implicated.  You  are 
one  of  these  men.  The  seditious  speech  you  made  after 
the  murder  of  Bellido  will  not  be  forgotten.  Your  ene 
mies — and  everybody  has  enemies — will  make  the  worst 
of  it.  They  will  say  that  you  gave  the  word  for  the  at 
tack  on  the  Palace.  You  have  communicated  with  the 
rebel  and  pretender  Toa.  You  have  seen  her  treasure  and 
received  money  from  her.  It  is  as  certain  as  fate  that  you 
will  be  proceeded  against.  You  are  in  danger,  my  poor 
boy,  and  that  danger  should  be  judiciously  averted. 

"But  how  can  it  be  averted,  Uncle?"  asked  Carrera  who, 
brave  as  he  was,  could  not  resist  a  feeling  of  great  alarm 
at  the  thought  of  a  prosecution  for  high  treason. 

"  In  the  first  place  you  should  make  a  timely  submission. 
You  should  side  with  the  friends  of  the  King.  You  should, 
if  possible,  manifest  your  loyalty  by  some  signal  act" — 

"  Uncle  !"  remonstrated  the  young  man. 

"  Let  me  proceed !  In  the  second  place  you  should  fortify 
your  position  by  a  wise  marriage.  I  have  long  had  a  match 
in  view  for  you,  and  until  you  told  me  of  that  foolish  affair 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  237 

with  your  Indian  Princess,  I  had  believed  that  your  own 
inclination  coincided  with  my  wishes.  The  woman  to  whom 
you  should  engage  yourself,  without  delay,  is  Dolores  So- 
lando  " — 

Carrera  gave  a  start,  which  encouraged  the  old  man, 
whose  eyes,  as  he  pronounced  the  name  of  Dolores,  care 
fully  scanned  the  countenance  of  his  nephew.  "Yes!"  he 
proceeded,  "Dolores  Solando!  Her  father  is  the  head  and 
front  of  the  loyalists  ;  not,  perhaps,  intellectually,  but  his 
great  name  and  wealth  will  be  of  vital  importance  to  the 
royal  cause.  He  has  almost  become  a  martyr  to  that  cause. 
His  person  was  in  danger.  His  house  had  been  invaded  ; 
his  wife's  life  might  have  been  sacrificed.  He  has  joined 
Arana,  and  will  be  in  a  position  of  almost  unlimited  in 
fluence  with  tho  Royal  Commissioner.  Who  would  dare  to 
assail  his  future  son-in-law?  Engage  yourself  to  Dolores 
and  you  will  be  safe.  But  aside  from  this  consideration, 
the  match  would  be  a  splendid  one  in  every  other  respect. 
It  would  add  to  3-0111-  wealth,  to  your  name,  position,  and 
influence.  You  would  become  the  founder  of  the  first  and 
proudest  family  in  the  kingdom,  and  be  to  this  country 
what  a  grandee  would  be  in  Spain." 

And  thus  the  old  man  continued  to  argue  and  to  preach, 
and  every  word  he  said  was  weighty,  plausible,  convincing. 
His  reasoning  was  irresistible  and  overcame  all  objections. 
And  when  doubts  arose  in  the  mind  of  Carrera,  while  he 
promenaded  in  the  orchard  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  how 
quickly  were  they  dissolved  when  he  submitted  them  to 
the  scrutiny  of  that  wise  old  man. 

And  at  last  the  closing  hour  arrived,  and  the  dying  man 
exacted  promises  which  his  grateful  nephew  could  not  re 
fuse.  He  promised  to  renounce  the  heathen  Toa  and  her 
delusive  treasures,  and  be  a  suitor  to  the  hand  of  Dolores. 
He  promised  to  be  as  loyal  to  his  King  as  he  would  be 
obedient  to  his  God.  And  with  the  crucifix  in  his  hand, 
and  another  appeal  to  Julio  by  look,  word,  and  gesture,  the 


233  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

old  man  breathed  bis  last  in  tbe  arms  of  bis  nephew.  And 
the  Jesuit  father  who  hud  attended  him  during  his  sick 
ness,  appeared  upon  the  veranda  fronting  the  court,  where, 
the  servants  and  peons,  and  their  women  were  assem 
bled,  and  raising  his  arms  brought  the  multitude  to  their 
knees : 

"Let  us  pray,  children  !"  he  exclaimed.  "Let  us  pray 
for  your  good  Master,  Don  Ramiro  de  Carrera  y  Pareja, 
whose  soul  bas  just  been  summoned  before  the  throne  of 
God." 


CHAPTER  IY. 

LAYIN0    THE    MINE. 

LATE  in  tbe  afternoon  of  tbe  day  following  the  burial  of 
Carrera's  uncle,  Dolores  sat  writing  a  long  letter  to  her 
father,  which  was  to  be  sent  by  a  secret  messenger,  while 
Aunt  Catita  was  deeply  engrossed  with  the  wonderful  ad 
ventures  and  heroic  feats  of  Amadis  de  Gaul,  when  Paredes 
was  announced. 

"Auntie!"  said  the  young  lady.  "1  am  afraid  you  will 
have  to  betake  yourself  to  one  end  of  the  room,  while  I  shall 
take  my  visitor  to  the  other.  I  have  to  confer  with  him  on 
matters  of  the  utmost  importance  to  father." 

"I  might  stay  in  the  adjoining  room,  Doloritas." 

"No,  Auntie,  it  would  not  be  proper.  And,  besides,  I 
want  you  near  enough  so  as  not  to  leave  me  alone  with  him, 
and  yet  far  enough  not  to  hear  our  conversation.  Forgive 
me,  Auntie,  but  it  is  for  father's  sake.  There  will  be  no 
love  making,  I  assure  you." 

Manuel  Paredes  now  entered,  and  after  some  preliminary 
'conversation  touching  the  absorbing  topics  of  the  day,  fol 
lowed  Dolores  into  a  remote  corner  of  the  sala,  where  she 
seated  herself  on  a  sofa,  while  he  took  a  chair  beside  her. 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  239 

Aunt  Catita  took  a  scat  on  an  ottoman  in  the  opposite  cor 
ner,  and  wrapping  herself  up  in  her  shawl,  soon  seemed  to 
be  asleep. 

u  I  have  startling  news  of  the  utmost  importance ! "  ho 
said  in  a  whisper. 

"  Proceed  ! "  she  said  in  a  quiet,  and  yet  commanding  and 
business-like  tone,  as  if  she  had  been  born  and  brought  up 
to  the  direction  of  affairs  of  state. 

"  Old  Sanchez,  after  organizing  the  Revolution  at  Lata- 
cunga  and  Ambato,  had  proceeded  to  Eiobamba,  with  but 
a  few  armed  followers,  and  was  about  to  submit"  his  plans 
to  the  Cnbildo  there,  when  he  was  seized  by  the  Corregidor, 
and  thrown  into  prison.  His  followers,  on  hearing  of  his 
arrest,  and  being  too  few  to  liberate  him,  dashed  back  to 
Ambato,  where  his  son  was,  who  with  a  hundred  mounted 
men,  immediately  hurried  to  his  father's  rescue.  In  the 
meantime, -however,  the  Corregidor  ordered  the  old  man  to 
be  tried  for  high  treason,  and  had  him  convicted  and  ex 
ecuted." 

Paredes  stopped  to  see  what  effect  this  news  would  have 
on  his  beautiful  listener.  But  not  a  muscle  of  her  face 
moved ;  she  sat  there  as  cold  and  motionless  as  a  marble 
statute,  and  merely  whispered  :  "  Proceed  !  " 

"Young  Sanchez  arrived  two  hours  afterward,  and  at 
once  took  possession  of  the  town.  He  wanted  to  hang  the 
Corregidor,  but  that  official  had  escaped  in  the  nick  of  time. 
Sanchez  then  hung  two  of  the  men  who  had  served  on  the 
court-martial  which  had  sentenced  his  father.  He  then 
left  forty  men  to  guard  the  town,  and  to  arm  and  organize 
the  rebel  element,  and  with  the  others  he  started  in  pursuit 
of  the  Corregidor.  They  rode  day  and  night,  but  finally 
met  with  the  advance  guard  of  Arana,  who  had  divided  his 
forces,  which  in  my  opinion  was  a  great  mistake.  Eob- 
erto's  horses  were  worn  out  when  the  two  parties  met,  and 
to  this  circumstance  alone,  we  owe  the  salvation  of  Arana's 
detachment.  The  meeting  seems  to  have  been  a  surprise 


240  THE   SECRET    OP   THE   ANDES. 

,to  both  parties.  But  that  young  Sanchez  is  a  fiend! 
He  fell  on  the  King's  men  with  such  impetuosity  that  they 
broke  and  fled  after  the  first  fire,  without  discovering  that 
the  attack  on  them  had  been  made  by  a  mere  handful  of 
men.  The  officer  in  command  of  the  Royalists  vainly  at 
tempted  to  rally  them.  He  was  slightly  wounded,  only 
very  slightly,  Senorita  ;  you  need  not  be  alarmed  " — 

"  Why  should  I  be  at  all?"  interposed  Dolores,  coldly. 

"  Because — well — because,"  said  Paredes  hesitatingly, 
"because  it  was" — 

"  My  brother,  perhaps." 

"Yes,  but  it  was  a  mere  scratch,  I  assure  you.  The 
freshness  and  fleetness  of  his  horse  saved  him."  Here  Par 
edes  paused  again,  and  again  Dolores,  without  changing 
her  attitude,  quietly  said  :  "  Proceed  !  " 

"Reinforcements  were  soon  brought  up,  but  Roberto, 
having  ascertained  the  enemy's  superiority,  returned  to 
Riobamba.  On  his  way  buck,  he  captured  the  Corregidor's 
private  secretary,  who  was  making  his  way  to  the  royal 
camp,  and  hung  him  to  a  tree." 

"  He  is  a  man  of  decision  !  "  said  Dolores  calmly. 

"  1  received  this  news  by  a  special  messenger,  two  hours 
ago,  and  took  it  to  the  Cabildo,  where  it  at  once  and  com 
pletely  re-established  the  ascendency  of  the  Bellidistas. 
Everybody  is  distrusted  now,  who  has  counseled  delajr  and 
moderation.  The  party  of  action  is  supreme  again,  and  as 
soon  as  this  news  becomes  public,  we  shall  have  to  appre 
hend  a  fresh  outbreak,  which  may,  and  probably  will, 
threaten  the  lives  of  the  President  and  of  the  Auditors.  The 
majority  of  the  Cabildo  is  now  opposed  to  all  further 
procrastination.  Unfortunately,  old  Olmos  has  returned 
with  troops  from  Ibarra,  and  the  Extremists  have  a  leader 
again.  He  demands  an  immediate  proclamation  of  inde 
pendence,  the  election  of  a  King,  and  his  marriage  to  Toa 
Duchicela,  the  Shyri  Queen." 


BOOK    IV.      THE   REACTION.  241 

"  And  who  is  to  be  selected  for  this  sacrilegious  mockery 
of  royalty?" 

"On  behalf  of  the  Shyri  Toa,  her  representatives  have 
presented  the  name  of  our  young  friend,  Don  Julio  de 
Can-era." 

Dolores  slightly  compressed  her  lips,  and  the  color  rose 
to  her  face  for  a  moment,  but  only  to  give  way  to  sudden 
paleness.  It  was  the  first  involuntary  betrayal  of  her 
emotion,  and  did  not  escape  the  scrutinizing  eye  of  Pare- 
des.  But  she  immediately  recovered  her  self-possession, 
and  remarked,  with  an  ironical  smile :  "  You  see  I  am  a 
prophet,  Senor  Don  Manuel.  I  had  predicted  royal  honors 
ibr  your  amiable  friend." 

"His  name  has  met  with  some  favor  among  the  men  of 
action,  because  from  his  youth,  inexperience,  and  softness 
of  character,  they  suppose  that  he  will  be  wax  in  their 
hands,  and  that  they  will  be  able  to  govern  through  him 
and  in  his  name." 

"And  will  he  accept  this  crown  of  insanity?" 

"  He  is  to  be  sounded  first.  If  he  refuses,  somebody  else 
will  be  selected.  But,"  said  Paredes,  with  peculiar  zest, 
"  it  is  believed  that  he  will  accept,  because  he  has  been 
carrying  on  a  love-intrigue  with  the  Indian  Princess  for 
some  time.  He  is  said  to  be  madly  in  love  with  her,  and 
lias  been  the  recipient  of  her  bounty.  The  gold  with 
which  he  has  paid  his  enormous  gambling  debts  has  come 
from  her." 

This  time  Dolores  did  not  betray  her  emotion,  but  asked, 
sarcastically  :  "  And  where  is  His  Majesty  now  ?  " 

"He  is  still  at  Puembo;  but  I  have  been  informed  that 
he  will  return  to  Quito  this  very  night." 

"  And  do  you  apprehend  any  danger  that  such  a  hair- 
brained  scheme  will  be  carried  out?  " 

"Most  certainly  I  do.  And  if  so,  our  influence  will  be 
destroyed.  The  leadership  of  the  Revolution  will  pass  into 
the  hands  of  those  who  mean  that  it  shall  be  successful. 


242  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

The  command  of  the  forces  will  be  taken  from  Guzman 
and  be  transferred  to  old  Olmos,  with  young  Sanchez  at  his 
side.  The  Indians  will  rise  in  every  province.  The  Inca 
Treasure  will  be  at  the  disposal  of  the  rebellion,  and  the 
men  of  action,  having  burnt  their  ships  and  cat  off  their 
retreat,  will  fight  for  dear  life,with  the  scaffold  before  them 
in  case  of  defeat,  and  untold  wealth,  honors,  and  power  in 
case  of  victory.  The  situation  is  exceedingly  serious, 
Sefiorita." 

"  But  if  Carrera  refuses,  as  he  certainly  will?" 
"  Worse  for  us  !    Then  the  probabilities  are  that  Sanchez 
will  be  selected  in  his  place,  who  is  a  lion,  while  Carrera  is 
a  llama." 

"  How  do  you  intend  to  meet  this  emergencj'?" 
"I  have  a  plan  which  1  think  will  prove  successful,  if 
we  can  be  sure  of  Carrera's  refusal  to  lend  himself  to  the 
scheme  of  the  rebels. 
"  Proceed ! " 

"Allow  me  to  close  that  door  first !"  said  Paredes,  ris 
ing.  "  I  am  afraid  of  Indian  listeners.  Their  sense  of 
hearing  is  very  sharp,  and  they  are  all  spies  of  their  Shyri 
Queen."  Paredes  went  to  the  door  and  stepped  out  into 
the  hall,  where,  to  his  great  annoyance,  he  met  Mama 
Santos,  the  nurse  whom  our  readers  already  know.  He 
entertained  no  doubt  that  she  had  attempted  to  listen  ;  but 
he  felt  assured  that  she  could  not  have  heard  the  conversa 
tion,  which  had  been  carried  on  almost  in  a  whisper. 
Mama  Santos  bowed  to  him  and  then  entered  the  room. 

"Sefior  Ortiz,"  she  said  in  her  calm  and  dignified  way, 
"  wishes  to  pay  his  respects  to  their  Ladyships." 

"Tell  him,"  said  Dolores,  "I  regret  exceedingly  that  I 
am  unable  to  see  him.  Tell  him  that  I  am  ill  to-night, 
but  that  to-morrow,  or  at  any  other  time,  I  shall  be  de 
lighted  to  receive  him." 

Mama  Santos  left  as  quietly  as  she  had  come,  and  Pare 
des  closed  the  door  behind  her. 


BOOK   IV.      THE   REACTION.  243 

"Now  we  are  safe  !  "  he  said.  Your  good  old  nurse  is  a 
spy,  Seiiorita.  I  do  not  doubt  it  in  the  least;  but  she 
could  not  possibly  have  heard  us." 

"  Proceed  with  your  plan  !  " 

"  The  dangerous  scheme  which  we  have  every  reason  to 
fear,  can,  in  my  opinion,  be  frustrated  only  by  springing  it 
prematurely  and  exposing  it  to  ridicule  by  some  signal 
failure  in  its  inception. 

"Explain  j^ourself,  Don  Manuel." 

"I  have  great  influence  with  the  rabble,  not  so  much 
owing  to  the  position  which  I  took  as  the  Colonel  of  our 
Eegiment  on  the  day  of  the  outbreak,  but  principally  ow 
ing  to  my  power  over  that  worthless  fellow,  Juan  Castro, 
the  King  of  the  Ragamuffins.  I  have  sent  word  to  him  to 
come  to  my  house  this  evening;  and,  if  my  plan  meets 
with  your  approval,  Seiiorita,  I  shall  have  all  the  necessary 
preparations  made  for  a  demonstration  to-morrow,  provided 
Carrera  has  returned  or  will  return  to  Quito  to-night. 
We  must  not  give  him  time  to  consult  with  the  men  of  ac 
tion,  or  to  be  influenced  by  them.  His  return  will  not  be 
known.  The  probabilities  are  that  he  will  not  see  any 
body  to-night.  I  shall  visit  him  myself  and  stay  with 
him,  so  as  to  keep  him  from  falling  into  other  company. 
I  shall  influence  his  flexible  mind  against  the  scheme  ;  and, 
if  I  succeed,  the  premature  demonstration  to-morrow  which 
Castro  will  organize,  will  finish  the  business." 

"  What  shall  be  the  object  of  that  demonstration?" 

"  To  proclaim  Carrera,  King.*     The  rabble  shall  offer 

*  As  to  this  event,  I  have  followed  the  account  given  by  Padre 
Velasco  in  his  History  of  Quito,  and  adopted  by  Lorente  in  his  His 
tory  of  Peru.  My  learned  friend,  Dr.  Pablo  Herrera,  formerly 
Equatorian  Minister  of  Foreign  affairs,  doubts  the  reality  of  this 
episode,  as  in  his  researches  among  the  old  archives  he  has  not  been 
able  to  discover  any  confirmation  of  it.  But  Pedro  de  Ona,  who 
wrote  his  poem  "  El  Arauco  Domado,"  a  few  years  after  the  event  is 
said  to  have  taken  place,  distinctly  speaks  of  an  attempt  to  set  up 


244  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

him  the  crown,  and  it  shall  be  done  in  such  a  violent  and 
indecent  manner  as  not  to  tempt  him  very  greatly.  The 
whole  thing  will  appear  ridiculous,  and  his  refusal  to  accept 
will  kill  the  movement,  and  make  it  appear  in  the  light  of 
a  farce.  It  will  arouse  the  public  mind  as  to  the  folly  of  all 
such  schemes,  and  thus  form  a  powerful  lever  to  bring  on 
the  reaction  which  we  all  desire.  Do  you  approve  of  my 
plan,  Seuorita?" 

"  Thoroughly.  It  does  honor  to  your  genius.  There 
is  only  one  modification  which  I  shall  propose." 

"  I  am  waiting  for  your  orders,  Seuorita." 

"  1  shall  lend  you  my  personal  help  in  the  matter.  You, 
Senor  Pared es,  may  prepare  Juan  Castro  and  his  rabble. 
As  to  Senor  Carrera,  leave  him  to  me.  I  shall  vouch  for 
his  refusal.'' 

"Never!  Never !"  exclaimed  Paredes,  springing  to  his 
feet. 

"And  why  not?"  asked  Dolores,  rising  likewise  and 
fastening  one  of  her  sternest  and  most  piercing  looks  on 
him. 

"  Senorita!  "  urged  Paredes.  "Have  you  forgotten  that 
I  love  you.  and  that  he  is  my  most  dangerous  and  now 
probably  my  only  rival.  No,  I  could  not  and  would  not 
consent  to  this.  I  would  have  the  Revolution  succeed 
rather  than  let  you  speak  to  him  on  this  matter.  How  could 
you  influence  him  otherwise  than  by  holding  out  the  in 
ducement  of  your  love  and  your  hand  ?  " 

Dolores  had  listened  to  him  with  quiet  determination,  and 
without  averting  her  eyes  from  his. 

"  Have  you  ended,  Sefior  ?  " 

"false  kings."  Under  the  circumstances,  I  have  done  no  violence  to 
historical  truth  by  incorporating  the  episode  referred  to  in  my  story. 
On  the  whole,  I  have  endeavored  to  follow  the  course  of  historical 
events  as  accurately  and  closely  as  possible,  considering  the  almost 
pitiable  scarcity  of  the  materials  on  which  I  had  to  rely. 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  245 

"  I  have ! " 

"  Have  you  nothing  further  to  say,  nothing  to  take 
back?" 

"Nothing!" 

"Do  I  understand  you  to  threaten  disobedience  to  the 
King's  orders  and  disloyalty  to  the  King's  cause  ?  " 

Paredes  felt  nettled  by  the  commanding  tone  with  which 
she  spoke  to  him,  and  ior  a  moment  his  eyes  flashed,  and 
he  met  her  severe  gaze  with  a  look  of  defiance;  but  it  was 
only  for  a  moment.  He  winced  under  the  fierceness  of 
those  cold  eyes,  and  said  in  a  deprecating  tone :  "  I  have 
no  orders  from  the  King's  Majesty.  My  powers  are  dis 
cretionary." 

"  Under  whose  commission  do  you  act,  Sefior  ?  To  whom 
was  the  King's  letter  directed?" 

"  To  your  lather,  the  Marquis." 

"Exactly.  And  all  the  powers  which  you  claim  you  de 
rive  from  my  lather  who  has  conferred  them,  and  may  recall 
them  if  the  necessities  of  the  King's  service  should  demand 
it.  Do  I  understand  you  to  deny  this,  Serior  Don  Manuel 
Paredes?" 

"I  do  not." 

"  And  who  represents  my  father  since  he  Is  gone  ?  Who 
stands  in  his  stead  by  virtue  of  the  power  which  I  have 
placed  in  your  hands?" 

"  It  is  you,  Seiiorita !" 

"And  you,  Senor,  have  recognized  this  fact  by  coming 
to  me  as  to  all  matters  concerning  your  task  and  authority. 
Do  you  admit  that?" 

"  I  do  !"  said  Paredes,  who  had  already  weakened  under 
the  searching  scrutiny  of  her  cross-examination. 

"Then  you  also  admit  that  I  now  represent  the  King's 
Majesty,  and  that  I  am  clothed  with  his  commission ;  and 
you  may  further  understand  that  I  am  not  to  be  trifled 
with." 

"  But,  Doloritas  "— 


246  THE   SECRET   01'   THE   ANDES. 

"Not  another  word  until  we  have  come  to  a  proper 
understanding.  Your  plan  has  my  sanction,  and  I  com 
mand  you  in  the  King's  name  to  carry  out  that  part  of  it 
which  I  have  assigned  to  you.  Do  I  understand  you  to 
refuse  ?" 

"Allow  me  to  say  but  one  word." 

"Do  I  understand  you  to  refuse?  Do  you  threaten  to 
counteract  me  in  what  I  deem  absolutely  necessary  for  the 
safety  of  our  cause?" 

"Well,  and  if  I  do?" 

"  Then  I  shall  revoke  your  commission  at  once,  and  shall 
so  inform  my  father." 

"And  if  I  do  not  choose,"  said  Paredes,  firing  up  again, 
"  to  submit  to  the  well  meant  but  mistaken  ideas  of  your 
Ladyship ;  if  I  do  not  choose  to  complicate  the  King's 
cause  with  a  love  intrigue;  if,  with  all  due  deference  to  the 
great  intellect  and  wonderful  genius  of  your  Ladyship,  I 
must  decline  to  be  guided  as  to  a  certain  part  of  ray  plan, 
by  your  Ladyship's  opinion,  but  insist  that  this  great  task 
must  be  performed  by  men  " — 

"Then  I  shall  denounce  you  to  the  Cabildo,  and  Don 
Manuel  Paredes  will  have  shared  the  fate  of  Count  Val- 
verde  before  sundown  to-morrow." 

Paredes  turned  pale,  yet  he  struggled  to  maintain  his 
self-possession.  "  You  are  joking,  Seilorita.  The  daughter 
of  the  Marquis  of  Solando  will  not  betray  the  King's  cause 
and  the  man  who  has  saved  her  father's  life." 

This  appeal  staggered  Dolores,  but  it  was  now  a  trial  of 
will.  She  had  to  conquer  or  be  conquered ;  and  her  de 
cision  was  made.  Drawing  her  shawl  closer  around  her 
shoulders,  she  said:  "This  interview  has  terminated,  Seiior 
Paredes.  I  expect  your  apology,  or  your  immediate  de 
parture." 

"  Doloritas !"  began  Paredes,  appealiugly. 

"Leave  me  at  once!" 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  247 

Paredes  stood  hesitating.  "-No,  Seflorita,  we  can  not 
and  must  not  part  in  anger." 

"Leave  me,  Scnor,  or  I  must  make  you  go." 

The  struggle  drew  to  a  close;  the  stronger  will  was  in 
the  ascendancy.  Dolores  turned  away. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  began,  "  if  I  spoke  hastily." 

No  answer. 

"If  it  is  a  crime  to  love  you  madly,  I  am  a  criminal." 

"Confine  yourself  to  matters  concerning  the  King's 
service,"  she  resumed,  without  turning  to  him.  "We  are 
not  discussing  love.  Do  you  acquiesce  in  my  view  of  what 
shall  be  done?" 

A  pause. 

"Have  the  kindness  to  answer  my  question.  It  is  the 
last  I  shall  ask." 

"I  am  your  slave,  Dolores,  even  if  you  sacrifice  and  re 
ject  me." 

"Your  answer  is  in  the  affirmative?"  she  inquired,  turn 
ing  around. 

"It  is!" 

"  Your  hand,  Don  Manuel !     Let  us  forgive  and  forget." 

"  Forget  ?"  he  said,  bitterly ;  "  forget  that  the  services  by 
which  I  hoped  to  secure  your  possession  should  be  but 
the  cause  of  my  losing  you  forever?" 

"Don  Manuel,  as  you  have  spoken  like  a  reasonable  be 
ing  again,  I  shall  be  frank  with  you.  I  do  not  love  Julio 
de  Carrera." 

"The  Virgin  be  praised!  God  bless  you  for  those 
words !" 

"  I  do  not  love  him,  and  never  shall." 

"And  will  not  give  him  cause  to  believe  that  you  love 
him?" 

"I  have  told  you  that  I  do  not  love  him.  The  rest  you 
must  leave  to  me." 

"  But  you  will  never  belong  to  him  ?" 

"Can  you  not  be  satisfied  with  what  I  have  told  you?" 


248  TH'E    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

"  Oh,  it  is  but  a  straw  to  a  drowning  man." 

"And  will  you  never  learn  patience,  Seuor  Paredes? 
Let  us  first  attend  to  the  King's  interests  and  to  my 
father's  business.  There  will  be  a  time  for  everything. 
Let  us  not  waste  the  precious  moments  now,  when  the  fate 
of  the  Colony  is  trembling  in  the  balance.  Go,  and  per 
form  your  part  of  the  task,  and  1  shall  perform  mine.  Go, 
now,  Don  Manuel,  and  if  I  do  not  send  a  messenger  to  you 
before  ten  o'clock  to-night,  telling  you  to  stop,  let  the  mine 
be  sprung  to-morrow.  And  now,  go.  Good  night,  my 
friend." 

Paredes  kissed  her  hand,  and  slowly  turned  to  go. 
Dolores  had  followed,  him  a  step  or  two.  Before  he  had 
reached  the  door  he  turned  back  again.  Their  eyes  met. 
They  both  glanced  at  Dona  Catita,  who,  by  this  time,  was 
reall}r  asleep;  and  again  their  eyes  met,  and  a  moment 
afterward  they  were  locked  in  each  other's  embrace,  and 
hung  upon  each  other's  lips. 

"  Go,  now,"  whispered  Dolores,  pushing  him  away. 
"Go  !  You  know  enough,  and  now  you  must  go." 

Paredes  went;  but  before  he  had  left  the  room  she  Chiled 
him  back. 

"Don  Manuel,"  she  asked,  "tell  me  the  truth,  it  my 
brother  severely  wounded?" 

Paredes  hesitated. 

"Answer  me!" 

"Yes,  Senorita,  he  is  severely  wounded." 

"  Is  my  brother  dead  ?" 

He  made  no  reply. 

"  Tell  me  truth.     My  brother  is  dead?" 

"  He  is  dead." 

"  Leave  me  1" 


BOOK   IV.      THE   REACTION.  249 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   TURNING   POINT. 

FOR  several  minutes  Dolores  stood  motionless  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.  A  world  of  thoughts  flashed  through 
her  brain;  but  her  eyes  remained  without  a  tear.  The 
bullet  that  hud  laid  her  brother  low  had  changed  her  posi 
tion  in  life  completely.  She  was  now  the  only  child  of  the 
great  and  wealthy  Marquis  of  Solando.  No  longer  a  de 
pendent  on  a  brother's  bounty,  she  had  become  an  heiress 
whose  hand  would  be  a  prize  coveted  by  the  noblest  houses 
of  Peru.  She  could  give  it  to  the  man  of  her  choice,  be 
he  never  so  poor,  or  she  might  exchange  it  for  a  rank  and 
station  higher  than  her  own.  That  insignificant  life  which 
stood  between  her  and  greatness  had  been  taken  away. 
The  boldest  dreams  of  her  ambition  might  now  be  real 
ized.  Did  she  think  of  the  sufferings  of  a  grief-stricken 
father?  Did  she  calculate  the  terrible  effect  this  dread 
ful  news  would  produce  on  the  waning  health  of  her 
mother?  Who  can  look  into  a  woman's  heart  and 
fathom  its  hidden  depths?  Had  she  loved  her  brother? 
Was  there  room  for  anything  but  self  in  that  cold  heart 
which,  a  few  minutes  ago,  had  beaten  against  the  breast 
of  Paredes  ?  Did  she  love  even  Paredes,  or  was  her  affec 
tion  for  him  but  an  appetite,  a  wild  passion  which,  to 
please  herself,  she  yearned  to  gratify?  Did  she  picture  to 
herself  the  wild  charge  of  young  Sanchez,  and  the  reeling 
form  of  her  brother  as  he  fell  bleeding  from  his  steed,  and 
perished  with  a  bullet  in  his  breast,  under  the  hoofs  of 
maddened  horses?  Or  was  it  her  own  future  which  en 
grossed  her  thoughts,  as  she  stood  silent  and  motionless  in 


250  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

the  center  of  that  large  and  elegant  room,  the  scene  of  so 
many  of  her  social  triumphs? 

At  last  she  turned  around  and  moved  toward  the  door. 
Cautiously  she  opened  it,  and  looked  out.  There  was  no 
body  in  the  hall.  "  Guambra  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Guam- 
bra  ! "  No  answer.  She  passed  along  the  corridor,  and 
found  her  little  Indian  maid  cowering  on  the  floor,  with 
her  head  on  her  knees,  and  her  shawl  over  her  head,  fast 
asleep.  It  was  now  nearly  dark.  Dolores  woke  the 
drowsy  child,  and  commanded  her  to  bring  lights,  and 
to  send  up  JRaimnndo,  the  white  steward  of  the  mansion. 

"  Kaimundo  !  "  she  whispered  to  him.  "  Go  to  the  house 
of  Don  Julio  de  Carrera,  and  see  whether  he  has  returned 
from  Puembo.  If  not,  wait  until  he  comes,  and  tell  him  he 
would  confer  a  great  favor  on  me,  by  coming  here  at  once. 
Tell  him  that  I  wish  to  see  him,  on  a  matter  of  the  utmost 
importance.  But  be  quick,  and  do  not  let  any  of  our  In 
dians  know  what  you  are  about." 

Slowly  and  with  apparent  calmness,  but  full  of  inward 
impatience  and  agitation,  she  paced  the  room  while  she 
awaited  the  return  of  her  messenger.  He  did  not  stay  long. 
The  Senor  de  Carrera  had  just  returned,  but  he  regretted 
that  he  was  not  in  a  fit  state  to  present  himself  to  her 
Ladyship.  Overwhelmed  with  grief  and  fatigue,  and  la 
boring  under  a  serious  indisposition,  owing  to  a  fall  with 
his  horse,  he  was  unable  to  leave  the  house  this  evening, 
but  he  would  hasten  to  pay  his  respects  to  her  Ladyship 
early  after  breakfast  to-morrow  morning. 

Dolores  bit  her  lips,  and  returned  to  the  sala.  She  would 
see  that  man  at  her  feet  yet,  and  then  her  revenge  would 
come.  Her  resolution  was  taken  at  once.  There  must  be 
no  to-morrow  at  a  crisis  like  this.  If  he  would  not  or  could 
not  come  to  her,  she  must  go  to  him. 

"Aunt  Catita!  "  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  that  lady, 
who  awoke  with  a  start. 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  251 

"  How  you  have  frightened  me,  child  !  What  is  the  mat 
ter?  Is  your  visitor  gone?  " 

"  Yes,  Auntie,  he  is  gone,  and  we  must  go,  too." 
"  Go  to  bed,  you  mean.    It  is  very  early,  and  I  want  to 
finish  this  book  to-night." 

"  Put  it  away,  Auntie.     I  must  ask  you  to  help  me  do  a 
very  improper  thing;  but  there  is  no  help  for  it." 
"  I  do  not  understand  you,  child.     What  is  it?" 
"  You  must  dress  yourself,  and  go  out  with  me." 
"  Go  where  ?  " 

"  To  a  young  gentleman's  house." 
"  1  hope  you  are  in  your  right  mind,  Dolores." 
'•Perfectly!     And  if  I  could  tell  you  all  my  reasons,  you 
would  agree  with   me  that  we  must  go.     It  is  on  father's 
business.      Come,    Auntie,   and   while    we    dress,  I   sLall 
tell  you  as  much  of  it  as  I  can,  without   betraying  fa 
ther's  secrets." 

Carrera  was  in  his  bedroom.  His  horse  had  fallen  with 
him  while  crossing  a  deep  ravine  on  his  return  from 
Puembo,  and  he  felt  shattered  physically,  morally,  and 
mentally.  And  this  was  the  reason  why  he  had,  although 
very  reluctantly,  postponed  his  visit  to  Dolores,  although 
his  heart  had  leaped  with  secret  joy  when  he  received  her 
message. 

Garrera  felt  that  it  was  probably  a  great  mistake,  not  to 
have  dragged  himself  to  the  Solando  mansion,  in  spite  of 
his  pl)37sical  ailments;  but  the  words  were  out  of  his 
mouth  before  he  had  reflected.  Dolores  would  be  offended. 
He  would  have  to  make  a  desperate  apology  in  the  morn 
ing.  Perhaps  he  should,  after  all,  rise  from  his  couch  and 
go  there  at  once?  But  would  she  expect,  and  would  she 
receive  him,  after  his  thoughtless  refusal? 

He  was  still  weighing  this  matter,  when  Mariano  entered 
the  room  in  great  agitation,  and  announced  that  two 
masked  ladies  had  come  to  the  house,  and  demanded  to 


252  THE    SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

see  the  Caballero.  They  were  waiting  in  the  reception- 
room.  Two  masked  ladies?  Who  could  they  be?  He 
never  dreamed  that  Dolores  could  be  one  of  them.  It 
must  be  Toa!  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it.  But  how 
should  he  meet  her?  What  should  he  say  to  her?  If  it 
was  Toa,  he  felt  he  was  lost.  He  had  pledged  his  love  to 
her,  and  she  had  come  to  hold  him  to  his  word.  Once 
again  under  the  charm  of  her  presence,  he  would  riot  be 
able  to  break  with  her  at  once.  He  would  have  to  tem 
porize.  And  yet  he  had  vowed  to  his  dying  uncle  that  he 
would  renounce  her.  What  an  embarrassing  situation  ! 
Why  had  she  come  ?  Was  it  not  the  height  of  boldness  and 
impropriety  thus  to  intrude  upon  his  privacy?  And  yet, 
lifter  what  had  passed  between  them,  how  could  he  tell  her 
that  he  loved  her  no  longer? 

Racked  by  these  perplexing  doubts  he  made  hasty 
toilette,  and  betook  himself  to  his  reception-room.  The 
two  masked  ladies  stood  at  the  table  in  the  center  of  the 
room.  Carrera  felt  reassured  and  yet  puzzled  as  he  beheld 
them.  Neither  of  the  two  resembled  Toa  in  figure;  yet 
'who  could  they  be?  Where  was  his  memory?  Had  he 
forgoiten  his  visions  in  Mama  Uticu's  cottage? 

The  taller  of  the  two  ladies  pointed  to  his  servant, 
Mariano,  who  stood  in  the  door  awaiting  orders.  "  Leave 
us,  Mariano ! "  said  his  master.  Mariano  obeyed  and  closed 
the  door  behind  him. 

The  lady  then  removed  her  mask  and  to  Carrera's  in 
finite  surprise  and  astonishment,  uncovered  the  beautiful 
face  of  Dolores  Solando. 

"  Seflorita  Dolores !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  Don  Julio.  As  you  would  not  or  could  not  leave 
the  house  to-night,  I  had  to  be  guilty  of  this  great  impro 
priety  and  indelicate  intrusion  for  which  I  ask  your  par 
don.  But  what  I  have  to  say  to  your  Grace  admits  of  no 
delay.  To-morrow  it  would  be  too  late,  and  so  I  have 
come  to-night  to  warn  you,  perhaps  to  save  you." 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  253 

Ctirrera  had  not  yet  recovered  from  his  surprise,  and 
did  not  know  what  to  answer.  Dolores  led  the  way  to  one 
of  the  window-embrasures,  while  Aunt  Catita  placed  a 
chair  against  the  hall-door,  and  sat  down,  turning  her 
back  on  her  niece  and  Julio.  The  latter  handed  Dolores  a 
chair  which  she  declined. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  began,  "  I  shall  stand.  I  shall  not 
occupy  your  time  any  longer  than  absolutely  necessary. 
Do  you  know  what  the  morrow  will  have  in  store  for 
you?" 

"No,  Senorita.  I  arrived  but  a  little  while  ago,  and 
nobody  has  been  here  to  see  me." 

"It  is  well !  And  as  you  are  still  in  ignorance  of  what 
will  happen,  I  shall  inform  you.  You  are  to  be  proclaimed 
King  to-morrow,  and  are  expected  to  marry  Toa  Duchicela, 
the  Indian  Princess,  as  your  Queen." 

"By  the  Holy  Virgin,  Seuorita,  it  is  impossible." 

"  I  know  what  I  say.  My  information  is  reliable,  as 
you  will  find  for  yourself  before  twenty-four  hours  have 
elapsed.  Now,  Senor  Don  Julio,  I  do  not  know  which  side 
you  have  taken  in  this  contest,  although  from  your  inti 
macy  with  Roberto  Sanchez,  and  from  the  fact  that  the 
crown  is  to  -be  offered  to  you,  I  presume  that  you  have 
sympathized  and  perhaps  co-operated  with  the  men  of  the 
Cabildo.  I  am  equally  ignorant  of  the  exact  nature  of  your 
relations  to  Toa  Duchicela.  There  was  a  time  when  I 
thought  I  knew  the  object  of  your  affections,  but  that  time 
has  passed,  and  I  shall  not  refer  to  it." 

"And  why  should  it  be  past,  Doloritas?"  interposed 
Carrera,  endeavoring  to  seize  her  hand,  which  she  with 
drew. 

"  Do  not  interrupt  me.  I  have  not  come  to  speak  of  love 
or  to  humble  myself  to  one  who  has  taken  pains  to  show 
me  his  indifference.  I  am  not  an  Indian  princess,  and 
have  no  treasures  and  no  kingdoms  to  bestow.  I  know 
you  have  made  love  to  Toa  Duchicela.  You  are  a  man, 


254  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

and  men  are  changeable,  and  claim  the  right  to  transfer 
their  affections  from  one  woman  to  another.  Yet  I  desire 
to  prove  to  you  that  the  change  of  your  heart  has  not 
aifected  the  friendship  which  I  have  always  entertained  for 
you,  and  which  I  entertain  for  you  even  now.  For  this 
reason  I  have  come  to  warn  you.  There  was  no  time  to 
be  lost.  To-morrow  it  would  have  been  too  late.  Give 
her  your  love.  Marry  her  if  you  choose.  But  do  not 
sacrifice  j-ourself,  your  career,  your  life,  by  espousing  the 
lost  cause  of  the  rebellion." 

"Listen,  Senorita!" 

"No,  listen  to  me!  I  shall  divulge  secrets  to  you  which 
you  must  not  breathe.  I  put  my  own  life  into  your  hands, 
but  I  trust  to  youx  honor  as  a  cavalier.  You  will  not  be 
tray  one  that  has  risked  her  reputation,  and  perhaps  her 
life,  to  save  }*ou." 

"How  could  you  believe" — 

"  I  do  not  fear  it.  I  should  not  be  here  if  I  did.  But 
listen  !  This  rebellion  must  fail.  It  is  doomed  to  defeat, 
and  those  who  participate  in  it  sincerely  will  die  on  the 
scaffold.  Its  leaders  will  betray  it.  The  King's  friends 
now  control  it.  The  commander  of  its  armed  forces,  Don 
Pedro  Guzman,  is  secretly  on  the  King's  side.  He  will 
never  move  unless  it  be  in  the  interest  of  the  King.  The 
loudest  advocates  of  resistance  are  secretly  with  us.  There 
are  members  of  the  Cabildo,  who,  while  co-operating  with 
the  insurgents,  are  in  communication  with  Arana.  I  could 
name  them  to  you  if  it  were  necessary.  But  no  matter ! 
There  are,  no  doubt,  many  who  are  sincere  in  the  position 
they  have  taken.  I  pity  them,  for  they  are  betrayed  and 
ruined.  The  very  words  they  utter  to  their  most  confiden 
tial  friends  will  be  brought  up  in  evidence  against  them. 
And  now,  Senor  Don  Julio,  could  you  but  for  a  moment 
harbor  the  belief  that,  under  these  circumstances,  the  cause 
of  the  insurrection  can  succeed  ?" 

"I  do  not,  Senorita!" 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  255 

"  And  you  will  not  sacrifice  yourself  by  espousing  it?" 

"  Am  I  not  already  sacrificed  ?  Have  I  not  compromised 
myself  by  the  speech  I  made  on  the  day  of  Bel  lido's  assas 
sination?  They  say  that  I  gave  the  word  for  the  attack 
on  the  Palace,  and  they  say  that  King  Philip  never  for 
gives." 

"Leave  that  to  me,  Don  Julio.  My  father  stands  high 
in  the  confidence  of  Arana,  and  is  in  communication  with 
the  Viceroy  at  Lima  and  the  Court  at  Madrid.  He  will 
have  ample  power  to  protect  you,  and  I.  Dolores  Solando, 
tell  you  that  no  hair  on  your  head  shall  be  harmed.  And 
even  without  my  aid  you  will  have  a  splendid  opportunity 
to  redeem  yourself.  To-morrow  they  will  offer  you  a 
crown." 

"It  is  impossible,  Senorita.  Who  would  be  so  insane  as 
to  do  that?  And  why  should  1  be  singled  out  as  the 
victim  ?" 

"You  will  not  accept,  then  ?" 

"Accept!     Do  you  think  I  am  out  of  my  right  mind?" 

"  Do  3Tou  give  your  word  of  honor  that  you  will  refuse?" 

"I  do!" 

"And  that  you  will  take  no  part  in  this  hair-brained 
rebellion?" 

"Oh,  Dolores!  Do  I  dream  or  am  I  waking?  I  can 
hardly  trust  my  senses.  Is  it  reality  that  you  care  so 
much  for  me?" 

"  Do  not  ask  me,  Don  Julio.  Let  my  presence  answer 
your  questions.  I  have  your  word,"  she  added,  extending 
her  hand,  which  he  seized  and  covered  with  kisses. 

"You  love  me,  Dolores?" 

She  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  him  affectionately 

"  Oh,  speak  the  word  !     You  love  me,  Doloritus." 

"Enough!  I  must  be  hence.  Aunt  Catita  will  grow 
impatient." 

"No!  No!     I  will  not  let  you  go,"  he  said,  seizing  both 


256  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

her  hands,  "until  you  have  spoken  the  word  which  will 
give  me  life  or  death." 

"Think  of  your  Indian  Princess,"  she  answered  with  a 
roguish  smile,  "you  fickle,  faithless  man." 

"Be  generous,  be  magnanimous,  be  yourself,  Dolores. 
I  may  have  been  bewitched  by  her  wiles  and  by  her 
strange  power;  but  I  never  loved  her.  You  are  my  first 
and  only  love.  I  knew  not  how  intensely  I  loved  you, 
until  you  came  to  me  to-night." 

"Let  me  go,  Don  Julio!  I  must  not  add  another  im- 
propriet}'  to  those  which  1  have  already  committed.  Please 
let  me  go,  Julio.  There  is  a  time  for  every  thing.  We 
shall  talk  of  love  hereafter.  I  must  go  now." 

"But  you  shall  not  go,  life  of  my  soul.  Not  now! 
Tarry  but  a  minute,  and  tell  me  that  I  may  hope  and  live 
for  you." 

"How  silljT  you  are,"  she  replied,  with  a  faint  show  of 
resistance.  "  Let  my  conduct  answer  your  questions. 
And  now  I  have  said  enough." 

"  The  angels  of  heaven  will  bless  you,  Dolores.  And  will 
you  be  mine?" 

"  Will  yon  never  cease  asking?" 

"  Only  this  one  question.  I  shall  not  ask  another.  Will 
you  be  mine,  Dolores?" 

"I  must  go!"     And  she  started  to  go;  but  it  was  to  be 
intercepted  by  his  arms  and  pressed  to  his  heart  and  cov 
ered  with  burning  kisses  which  she  did  not  return. 
"You  will  be  mine,  love?" 

"  I  may  be  yours,"  she  whispered,  tearing  herself  awu}r, 
"  but  on  condition  that  you  let  me  go  at  once."  Then 
turning  back,  she  said,  with  a  look  which  drove  him  wild 
with  joy  :  "  Good  night,  Julio  !" 

And  down  stairs  he  accompanied  the  ladies,  who  had  re 
sumed  their  masks,  and  would  have  escorted  them  home 
had  they  not  positively  declined  it.  Kaimundo  waited  for 
them  with  an  escort  of  servants,  and  the  next  moment 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  257 

they  had  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  And  the  vision  in 
Mama  Eucu's  cottage  bad  not  jet  returned  to  Carrera's 
memory. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    BLAST. 

Can-era  was  now  fully  satisfied  of  the  hopelessness  of 
the  rebellion,  and  the  thought  struck  him  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  warn  his  friend,  Roberto  Sanchez,  and  to  save  him 
if  it  was  not  too  late.  He  concluded  to  lenve  Quito  in 
seai-ch  of  the  hot-headed  enthusiast,  and  to  travel  on  until 
he  had  found  him.  With  this  determination  he  arose  early 
on  the  morning  following  the  visit  of  Dolores,  and  ordered 
Mariano  to  make  the  necessary  preparations,  and  to  accom 
pany  him  on  the  journey.  But  Spanish  America  in  those 
days  did  not  differ  from  the  Spanish  America  of  to-day. 
It  takes  so  long  to  make  preparations  for  traveling,  as  to 
bear  out  the  Spanish  proverb,  "  To  get  away  from  the  inn 
is  half  the  journey."  In  spite  of  all  the  impatience  of 
Carrera,  the  day  was  far  advanced  before  everything  was 
in  readiness.  And  now  he  would  go  out  to  learn  the  latest 
news,  and  to  ascertain  the  probable  whereabouts  of  his 
young  friend.  He  would  also  take  leave  of  Dolores,  to  whom 
he  desired  to  prove,  by  his  expedition,  that  he  intended  to 
bezealousin  the  King'scause.  As  to  the  contemplated  hair- 
brained  offer  of  a  crown  to  himself,  if  such  an  offer  was  to 
be  made,  he  would  forestall  it  by  a  few  words  with  old  Ol- 
mos,  or  Sanchez,  the  father,  whose  death  he  bad  not  yet 
learned.  And  Toa !  should  he  see  her?  No  ;  how  could 
he  meet  her?  In  what  light  would  he  now  appear  before 
her  ?  It  must  be  confessed  that  his  dread  of  such  a  meet 
ing  had  contributed  somewhat  to  his  resolution  to  leave  the 
city.  He  would  return  the  sum  she  had  advanced  to  him, 


258  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

as  soon  as  he  came  into  full  possession  of  bis  inheritance. 
He  endeavored  to  persuade  himself  that  she  had  bewitched 
him,  and  that  the  potion  which  Mama  Ilucu  had  given 
him  was  an  elixir  of , love,  the  effects  of  which,  as  he  felt 
confident,  had  fully  worn  away.  It  seemed  impossible  to 
him,  as  he  now  felt,  that  Toa's  wiles  could  have  ensnared 
him,  had  he  remained  in  undisturbed  possession  of  his 
sober  senses.  But  now  the  spell  was  broken,  and  he  real 
ized  the  full  danger  of  the  delusion  under  which  he  had 
labored.  He  stood  in  the  doorway  down  stairs,  giving  his 
last  orders  to  Mariano,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by 
a  wild  tumult  in  the  street.  A  disorderly  multitude,  en 
tirely  composed  of  men  of  the  lower  and  lowest  orders, 
came  marching  down  from  the  Plaza,  rending  the  air  with 
wild  acclamations.  As  they  caught  sight  of  him,  they 
broke  into  enthusiastic  vivas!  and  hurried  toward  his 
house,  filling  the  street  completely,  and  crowding  into  his 
doorway  and  paleo. 

"  Viva  el  gran  Senor  de  Carrera  !  Long  live  our  King! 
Long  live  our  Shyris,  Carrera  and  Duchicela  !" 

Dolores  was  right,  then.  He  had  doubted  it  until  this 
moment. 

''  What  are  your  wishes,  my  friends?''  he  inquired  with 
a  smiling  face  and  a  palpitating  heart.  He  had  not  ex 
pected  that  the  offer  of  a  crown  would  be  made  to  him  by 
a  mob.  He  had  prepared  himself  for  an  argument  with 
the  revolutionary  leaders,  but  this  demonstration  was  a 
terrible  surprise. 

"  Long  live  the  first  gentleman  of  Quito,  who  shall  rule 
over  this  Kingdom  and  save  us  from  our  enemies,"  shouted 
one  ;  and  repeated  vivas  followed  this  announcement. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  ray  friends,"  said  Carrera. 
retreating  toward  the  staircase,  as  the  mob  crowded  around 
him.  "  Have  the  goodness  to  stand  back,  and  let  some  one 
explain  your  wishes." 

"Castro  will  speak  for  as!"  exclaimed  several  voices. 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  259 

"That  I  will,  with  your  Highness'  permission!"  said 
Castro,  as  he  elbowed  himself  through  the  crowd,  and,  hat 
in  hand,  presented  himself  to  Carrera.  •» 

"  I  wish  you  would,  Don  Juan,"  rejoined  Carrera  meekly, 
"for  I  do  not  understand  the  meaning  of  these  acclama 
tions." 

"  The  people,  most  excellent  Senor !  "  began  Castro, 
"  want  a  King.  We  want  a  leader  to  protect  us,  to  save  us 
from  our  enemies.  The  Alcabala-men  are  murdering  our 
friends.  They  have  murdered  the  good  Sanchez,  as  they 
assassinated  Bellido.  The  troops  of  Arana  are  moving  on 
the  Capital.  They  will  murder  us  all.  Our  leaders  are 
divided  in  their  councils.  There  are  too  many  of  them  to 
agree.  We  must  have  one  head  to  direct  and  command. 
King  Philip  has  forfeited  his  rights  by  destroying  our 
fueros  and  taking  away  our  privileges.  We  are  Americans 
and  not  chapetones.  We  want  an  American  to  rule  over  us 
and  be  a  nation  by  ourselves.  In  this  crisis  the  people 
look  to  your  Excellenc}',  the  most  magnanimous  and  the 
most  beloved  caballero  of  Quito.  Your  Excellency  shall  be 
our  King  and  the  husband  of  Toa  Duchicela,  the  Shyri 
Queen,  and  we  will  defend  your  Majesties  with  the  last 
drop  of  our  blood.  Will  we  not?  " 

"  Yes  !  Yes  !  "  shouted  the  multitude.  "  Long  live  their 
Majesties!  " 

"  But  listen,  friends  !  "  said  Carrera,  "  I  am  greatly  be 
holden  to  you  for  your  kindness  and  good  opinion  and  feel 
highly  flattered  by  your  confidence,  but  I  regret  the  mode 
and  cause  of  its  expression." 

"No!  No!   No!" 

"  Let  me  speak,  my  friends  !  I  am  a  young  man,  untried 
and  inexperienced  in  affairs  of  state,  to  which  I  never  paid 
much  attention.  You  should  not  come  to  me  with  your 
wishes  or  grievances  ;  but  you  should  present  them  to  the 
Cabildo,  where  they  will  be  properly  considered  and  judi 
ciously  acted  upon.  You  should  know,  my  friends,  that  I 


260  THE   SECRET   OP   TOE    ANDES. 

am  powerless  to  do  anything  for  you.  It  is  the  Cabildo 
that  lias  the  disposal  of  your  armed  forces  and  the  general 
direction  of  your  affairs." 

"  The  Cabildo  will  approve  of  our  selection,"  rejoined 
Castro,  "  if  your  Excellency  will  but  consent." 

"Yes!  Yes !"  shouted  those  near  by,  while  those  that 
were  in  the  rear  crowded  forward  more  and  mon?,  until 
Carrera's  position  became  exceedingly  uncomfortable  and 
embarrassing.  Some  of  the  men  had  even  taken  positions 
on  the  staircase,  thus  cutting  off  his  retreat. 

"  Were  you  sent  here  by  the  Cabildo,  my  friends  1  "  in 
quired  Carrera. 

"  It  is  all  the  same,  most  excellent  Senor  !  "  replied  Cas 
tro.  "  The  Cabildo  but  awaits  your  Excellency's  decision." 

"  But  do  you  bring  me  any  message  fi*om  the  Cabildo  ?  " 

"  I  vouch  for  its  concurrence  and  approbation,"  answered 
Castro,  pompously. 

"I  do  not  ask  for  any  concurrence  or  approbation,"  re 
sumed  Carrera,  hesitating  to  utter  the  word  which,  in  all 
probability,  would  turn  this  fierce  mob  against  him,  "  all 
1  ask  is  this,  that  in  so  grave -a  matter  as  your  future  wel 
fare,  you  should  consult  with  those  who  have  the  power  to 
be  of  service  to  you." 

"  We  shall  defer  to  your  Highness'  opinion,"  replied  Cas 
tro?  "  We  shall  escort  your  Excellency  to  the  Cabildo  and 
have  the  proclamation  made  from  the  balcony  of  the 
building." 

"  On  to  the  Cabildo  !  "  shouted  several  voices.  "  Let  us 
carry  our  King  on  our  shoulders  !  "  And  before  Carrera 
could  say  a  word,  he  was  seized  by  strong  hands  and  placed 
on  the  shoulders  of  two  stalwart  men. 

And  now  the  critical  moment  had  arrived. 

"  Not  one  step  further,  my  friends ! "  exclaimed  the 
young  man,  who  had  turned  deathly  pale.  "  It  must  not, 
it  can  not  be  !  " 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  261 

"What  can  not  be  ?"  demanded  Castro,  changing  his 
manner  and  tone. 

"I  can  not  be  your  King.  If  I  have  your  confidence 
and  your  affection,  I  beg  you  to  desist  from  this  visionary 
scheme  and  let  mo  go."  And  with  these  words  he  at 
tempted  to  break  from  the  men  who  held 'him  ;  but  it  was 
in  vain. 

"  But  your  Excellency  must  accept/'  whispered  Castro. 
"  We  have  risked  our  lives  Cor  your  Excellency  ;  and  you 
can  not,  you  shall  not  abandon  us." 

"But,  my  dear  friend,"  remonstrated  Carrera,  "do  you 
not  realize  that  such  a  wild  undertaking  could  never  suc 
ceed  ?" 

"Let  him  down,"  said  Castro  to  the  men  who  carried 
Carrera,  while  the  mob  were  pressing  around,  vociferating 
and  gesticulating,  and  then,  placing  his  hands  on  his  vic 
tim's  shoulders,  he  whispered  to  him:  "It  is  death  to  you 
to  refuse.  You  must  accept  or  die."  And  as  he  stared 
at  him  ferociously,  the  dream  in  Mama  Rucu's  cottage  sud 
denly  came  back  to  Carrcra's  mind.  Yes,  those  were  the 
dreadful  eyes  that  had  stared  at  him  in  his  dream.  His 
heart  sank.  Now  he  understood  the  meaning  of  that 
dream.  He  knew  that  a  dreadful  ordeal  was  before  him, 
anil  ho  prayed  to  God  and  the  Virgin  to  protect  him. 

''Juan  Castro,"  he  said,  "are  you  a  Christian?"    . 

"  That  is  not  the  question  now,"  replied  the  ruffian,  still 
in  a  whisper.  "You  have  to  decide  on  the  spot  whether 
you  will  sacrifice  us  or  3Tourself.  Consent,  and  you  shall  be 
safe.  .Refuse,  and  your  life  will  not  be  worth  a  maravedi. 
Be  quick  about  it." 

"  Santa  Maria,  Mother  of  God !  I  commend  myself  to 
thy  care." 

"  You  are  a  traitor,  then,  to  the  cause  of  the  people?" 
resumed  Casti-o,  in  a  loud  and  angry  voice. 

"I   am   no  traitor,  Juan  Castro.     lam  your  friend  and 


2G2  THE   SECRET   OF    1  HE   ANDES. 

the  friend  of  the  people,  a  devout  Christian,  and  a  loyal 
subject  to  the  King  of  Spain  !" 

"Hear  it,  men  of  Quito!  Hear  it!"  shouted  Castro, 
with  a  stentorian  voice,  "this  man,  for  whom  we  were 
about  to  lay  down  our  lives,  rejects  the  honors  which  we 
have  proffered  him.  He  declares  that  he  is  a  loyal  subject 
to  King  Alcabala,  the  murderer  of  Bellido  and  Sanchez. 
He  will  not  aid  the  cause  of  his  native  city  and  country. 
"What  shall  we  do  with  him  ?" 

"Accept,  Sofior  de  Carrera!  Accept!  Accept!"  ex 
claimed  some  of  the  men.  "Do  not  abandon  us  in  the 
hour  of  need.  A  King  alone  can  save  us,  and  you  shall 
be  our  King." 

"But  will  you  not  give  me  time  to  consider?"  entreated 
Carrera.  "  This  proposition  has  been  a  perfect  surprise  to 
me.  I  can  not  accept  it  without  previous  reflection.  Give 
me  a  short  time,  at  least,  to  consider."  And  his  eyes 
glided  over  the  sea  of  heads  that  surged  around  him,  in 
the  vain  expection  of  relief  or  rescue  from  somewhere. 
But  he  saw  nothing  but  the  turbulent  mob  of  his  assail 
ants.  There  was  a  number  of  armed  soldiers  among  them, 
but  they  seemed  to  be  in  sympathy  with  the  rabble. 

"  You  can  not  escape  from  us  that  way,  Senor  Don 
Julio  de  Carrera,"  rejoined  Castro.  "  Your  decision  must 
be  made  now." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  escape.  Let  me  return  to  my  house  " 
— they  had  him  out  on  the  street  by  this  time — "  and  you 
can  go  in  with  me  and  guard  all  its  doors  and  windows.  I 
pledge  you  my  word  of  honor  that  I  shall  not  attempt  to 
escape." 

"Time  is  too  precious,  Senor,"  said  Castro.  "  Arana  is 
marching  upon  Quito,  and  not  a  moment  must  be  lost." 

"Take  off  your  hands,  man,"  replied  Carrera,  vainly 
seeking  to  release  himself.  "  Is  this  the  manner  in  which 
3'ou  would  treat  your  King?" 

"  But  you  refuse  to  be  cur  King." 


BOOK    IV.      THE   REACTION.  263 

"  I  must !"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  who  had  now  re 
signed  himself  to  the  inevitable,  and  determined  to  try  the 
effect  of  sternness.  "  Your  proceeding  is  treasonable  and 
sacrilegious.  Unhand  me,  1  say,  and  stand  back!" 

With  these  words  he  freed  himself  from  the  hold  of 
Casti-o,  and  attempted  to  draw  his  sword.  But  it  was  in 
vain.  He  was  at  once  seized  and  disarmed  by  half  a 
dozen  powerful  men,  and  again  found  himself  in  the  iron 
grip  of  Castro. 

"Men  of  Quito  "  yelled  the  latter,  "this  traitor  would 
draw  his  sword  against  us.  He  would  strike  down  the 
people  who  came  to  offer  him  a  crown." 

"  Kill  him  !  Kill  him !"  clamored  those  near  by,  and  the 
dreadful  cry  was  taken  up  by  those  in  the  rear. 

"  I  have  not-  harmed  any  one  of  you — I  have  always 
wished  you  well,"  remonstrated  Carrera,  but  his  voice  was 
drowned  bythe  tumult. 

At  this  moment  an  arriero,  with  a  drove  of  donkeys  and 
mules,  endeavored  to  pass  the  next  intersection  of  the 
street,  but  found  himself  stopped  by  the  multitude. 

"  Let  us  put  him  on  an  ass,  and  make  a  Carnival-King  of 
him,  if  he  will  not  be  a  real  King." 

"  Yes  !  Yes  !     And  he  shall  run  the  gauntlet,  too." 

"  Up  with  him  !  Tie  him  to  the  ass.  That's  the  steed 
for  him." 

In  an  instant  his  doublet  was  torn  from  him.  His  vest 
and  shirt  were  next  pulled  off  his  back  and  torn  into 
shreds,  and  he  was  hustled  forward  to  the  corner.  The 
Arriero  attempted  to  turn  back  his  animals,  but  the  mob 
seized  one  of  the  donkeys,  cut  the  ropes  by  which  its  load 
was  fastened,  and  then  pulled  the  animal  through  the 
crowd  toward  Carrera.  Some  of  the  men  disentangled  the 
ropes  from  the  load  of  boxes  on  the  ground,  and  shouted  : 
"Now,  let  us  tie  him  on  the  ass;"  which  was  no  sooner 
said  than  done. 

"  There  is  a  crown  for  him  !"  said  another,  snatching  a 


261  THE    SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

hat  from  a  poor  Indian's  head,  and  slamming  it  on  Car- 
rera's. 

"  And  now  for  switches  !  Let  us  pay  him  his  ixryalty." 
The  procession  moved  on,  mocking  its  unfortunate  vic 
tim,  yelling,  sneering,  and  cursing.  Some  threw  mud, 
others  threw  stones  at  him  ;  others  belabored  his  bare  back 
with  canes  and  switches.  A  garden  was  reached,  inclosed 
with  an  aloe  hedge.  The  mob  at  once  broke  into  the  in- 
closure,  and  cut  down  the  tough,  long-bladed  leaves,  which, 
as  the  reader  knows,  end  in  spines.  With  these  blades 
they  struck  him  unmercifully.  The  skin  of  his  back 
broke  in  a  few  seconds,  and  the  blood  spurted  forth 
and  covered  those  around  him.  In  a  few  minutes 
Carrera's  back  was  an  unsightly  mass  of  raw  flesh  and 
blood,  with  pieces  of  lacerated  skin  hanging  down  from  it. 
And  still  the  procession  moved  on,  and  the  hooting,  yell 
ing,  and  cursing  continued.  No  rescue  came.  No  help 
from  anywhere.  The  shopkeepers  had  closed  their  tiendas 
at  the  approach  of  the  tumultuous  mob.  The  citizens  had 
shut  and  barred  their  doors  and  windows,  for  fear  of  viol 
ence  to  themselves  or  their  families. 

At  last  the  procession  had  reached  the  suburbs,  and  ap 
proached  the  steep  banks  of  the  Machangara,  in  the  rear 
of  the  Nunnery  of  Santa  Clara.  Carrera  had  lost  his  con 
sciousness,  and,  apparently  lifeless,  hung  from  the  ass.  The 
mob  had  exhausted  its  fury,  and  some  of  the  men  had  be 
come  ashamed  of  their  work,  and  were  anxious  to  get 
away  from  it.  Others  had  dropped  off,  and  the  crowd  had 
considerably  diminished  when  it  came  to  a  halt.  Castro, 
too,  who  was  sure  of  his  victim's  death,  had  disappeared. 
As  soon  as  the  mob  found  itself  without  its  leader  it  evinced 
an  anxiety  to  stop. 

"  He  is  dead  !"  said  one  of  them. 

"  Let  us  drop  him  in  the  river!" 

"No;  drop  him  right  here,  by  the  garden  wall,"  said 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  265 

another.  "  It  is  over  with  him.  Let  us  go  back  to  the  city, 
and  see  what  has  happened." 

u  Come  along  !"  shouted  another,  who,  breathless  from 
running,  had  just  joined  the  crowd.  "  The  people  are  clam 
oring  for  the  surrender  of  the  President  of  the  Audience. 
He  is  to  be  dispatched  next.  There  is  work  to  be  done  ! 
Come  along." 

"  Cut  down  this  dead  traitor  !     Cut  him  down  !" 

It  was  done.  The  ropes  with  which  Carrera  was  tied 
were  cut,  and  heavily,  without  a  sign  of  life,  he  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  lay  there,  bleeding  and  motionless. 

When  consciousness  returned  to  him,  he  found  himself 
lying  in  a  pool  of  blood.  He  attempted  to  raise  himself 
but  this  effort  gave  him  a  terrible  pain  in  the  back,  and 
brought  him  down  again.  A  second  attempt  was  followed 
by  the  same  result.  The  pain  was  so  intense  that  it  threw 
him  into  a  "swoon.  When  he  came  to  again,  he  tried, 
without  moving,  to  ascertain  where  he  was.  His  head 
rested  on  the  base  of  a  garden  wall.  As  far  as  he  could 
see  without  turning,  it  was  the  place  he  had  beheld  in  his 
first  vision  in  Mama  Eucu's  cottage.  That  vision  now 
came  back  to  him  with  terrible  distinctness.  He  could  not 
descry  any  human-  being  as  far  as  his  eye  could  reach.  All 
was  lonely  and  lifeless  around  him.  Was  his  situation  a 
reality,  or  another  vision?  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  pain 
that  racked  him  he  would  have  believed  that  he  was  dream 
ing.  By  attentively  scanning  the  features  of  the  locality 
before  him,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be  near 
the  Quebrada  of  San  Diego,  and  that  the  garden  wall  above 
him  must  belong  to  the  Nunnery  of  Santa  Clara. 

At  last  he  heard  voices,  female  voices.  Two  ladies,  fol 
lowed  by  four  or  five  male  servants,  were  coming  toward 
him,  apparently  in  great  trepidation.  They  moved  cau 
tiously,  yet  hurriedly,  constantly  looking  backward.  A 
man  now  passed  him,  but  took  little  or  no  notice  of  him. 


266  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

The  man  rushed  forwurd  to  meet  the  two  ladies.  "  Your 
Ladyships  can  now  enter  safely,"  he  said.  "  The  Mother 
Superior  has  ordered  the  door  to  be  kept  open  so  that  your 
Ladyships  can  slip  in.  But  be  quick,  for  the  love  of  the 
Virgin  !  The  demons  of  hell  are  let  loose.  They  have 
sacked  our  house,  and  they  are  now  before  the  Cabildo- 
building,  clamoring  for  the  lives  of  the  President  and  the 
Auditors." 

"  Is  there  nobody  in  the  street  below,  or  in  the  Plaza  of 
Santa  Clara?"  asked  one  of  the  ladies,  reluctant  to  venture 
forward. 

"  The  Plaza  of  Santa  Clara  is  deserted  ;  not  a  soul  is  to  be 
seen  there  now.  But  God  knows  how  it  will  be  five  minutes 
hence.  Your  Ladyships  have  no  time  to  lose." 

"  Let  us  make  haste,  then."  said  the  other  lady,  and  Car- 
rera  recognized  the  voice  of  Dolores.  "  But  what  is  that, 
there  on  the  ground  across  our  way?"  she  asked  pointing 
to  Carrera. 

"  Some  man  who  has  been  murdered  or  badly  wounded 
during  the  day ;  he  will  not  trouble  your  Ladyships.  Your 
Ladyships  must  pass  him  without  looking  at  him.  The 
sight  might  sicken  your  Ladyships." 

And  now  the  group  had  come  up  to  the  helpless  man. 
Both  the  women  averted  their  faces  as  they  passed  him. 
Aunt  Catita  even  covered  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief, 
and,  clasping  the  arm  of  Dolores,  shrank  away  as  far  from 
the  bloody  sight,  as  the  narrowness  of  the  pathway  allowed. 
Carrera  now  realized  that  this  was  his  chance  of  salvation. 
If  she  would  but  look  at  him!  But  no !  she  passed  him 
with  averted  eyes.  Unmindful  of  the  excruciating  pain 
produced  by  the  effort  which,  to  his  present  condition,  was 
almost  superhuman,  he  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and 
summoning  the  last  remnants  of  his  vital  strength,  he 
broke  into  the  agonizing  and  despairing  shriek:  "Dol 
ores!"  and  then  fell  back  heavily,  and  fainted  away. 

"  The  man  must  know  me,"  said  Dolores,  as  they  hurried 


BOOK   IV.      THE   REACTION.  267 

on  to  reach  the  door  of  the  Convent  in  safety.  "He  has 
called  me  by  name.  His  voice,  too,  is  not  unfamiliar.  I 
wonder  who  it  may  be?" 

"Hurry  on,  Doloritas,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  said  Aunt 
Catita ;  "  let  us  get  under  shelter  as  fast  as  we  can."  And 
on  they  rushed  until,  almost  out  of  breath,  they  had  reached 
the  Convent  door,  where  they  were  waited  for  by  the 
Mother  Superior  and  some  of  her  nuns,  and  overwhelmed 
with  sympathetic  caresses. 

"Your  mother  is  awaiting  you  with  feverish  anxiety," 
said  the  Superior.  "  You  must  see  her  at  once.  Your  ser 
vants  will  stay  with  our  own.  We  may  need  them  all." 

The  ladies  now  rushed  to  the  apartments  fitted  up  for  the 
Marchioness,  whom  the  news  of  her  son's  sad  death  had  not 
yet  reached.  Nobody  in  the  Convent  seemed  to  know  of  it, 
and  Dolores  deemed  it  most  prudent  to  keep  it  to  herself 
for  the  present.  She  would  also  ask  the  Superior  to  keep 
it  from  the  Marchioness  as  long  as  possible.  It  was  difficult 
enough  to  allay  the  present  excitement  of  the  old  lady,  who 
was  lamenting  the  destruction  of  her  property,  and  the 
absense  of  her  son  and  husband. 

It  was  not  until  about  fifteen  minutes  had  elapsed  from 
the  time  Dolores  and  Catita  had  entered  the  sheltering 
walls  of  Santa  Clara,  that  Aunt  Catita  remembered  the 
wounded  or  dying  man  outside.  A  consultation  followed, 
whether  anything  could  be  done  for  him,  and  whether  it 
would  be  safe  and  prudent  to  attempt  it.  At  last  the  Su 
perior  concluded  that  if  no  crowds  were  visible  in  the  Plaza 
or  in  the  adjoining  streets,  she  would  send  out  two  men 
with  a  stretcher  to  bring  him  in.  The  Plaza  and  neigh 
boring  streets  were  still  deserted,  and  so  the  men  were  sent 
out.  They  returned  without  the  wounded  man.  They  had 
easily  found  the  place  where  he  had  lain.  It  was  still 
marked  by  a  large  pool  of  blood  ;  but  the  man  was  gone. 
There  was  no  trace  of  him  far  or  near. 


268  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AN    UNDERSTANDING. 

THE  riotous  day  had  given  way  to  a  noisy  and  tumultous 
night.  At  about  nine  o'clock  three  men  on  horseback,  fully 
armed  and  equipped  for  a  journey,  halted  before  the  Convent 
of  Santa  Clara,  and  one  of  them  dismounted  and  rang  the 
bell.  It  was  Manuel  Paredes.  The  servant  at  the  door 
opened  the  wicket  and  demanded  to  know  his  business. 

"  3  wish  to  see  the  Seiiorita  Dolores  Solando." 

"It  is  too  late,"  answered  the  servant;  '-it  is  against  the 
rules  of  the  Convent  to  admit  visitors  at  this  hour." 

"But  I  must  see  the  Seiiorita  on  business  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  herself  and  her  father.  If  you  will  let  me 
see  the  Mother  Superior,  1  can  satisfy  her  that  my  business 
admits  of  no  delay." 

''My  orders  are  peremptory." 

"But  these  are  extraordinary  times.  Human  lives 
are  at  stake.  The  Seiiorita  Dolores  is  not  a  member  of 
your  order,  and  I  know  the  Mother  Superior  will  allow 
an  exception  to  be  made  in  a  case  of  such  urgency." 

After  long  delays  and  protracted  consultations  inside,  the 
door  was  finally  opened  and  Paredes  invited  to  enter. 
Telling  his  companions  to  ride  ahead  slowly,  as  he  would 
soon  overtake  them,  he  led  his  horse  into  the  convent  court, 
and  after  tying  him  to  a  post,  followed  the  janitress  into 
the  reception-room,  where  Dolores  and  her  aunt  awaited 
him,  behind  a  double  lattice-work  of  wooden  bars,  which 
separated  that  part  of  the  room  to  which  visitors  were  ad 
mitted  from  the  part  reserved  for  the  jnmates.  A  dim 
candle  burned  on  a  table  near  the  door,  leaving  the  ladies 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  269 

ess.  \  Pi 

their  faces,  but  he  heard  the  voice  oiT Dolores  asking  him 
to  be  seated. 

"I  come  to  take  leave,  Senorita,"  he  said,  "and  to  re 
ceive  your  orders.  I  must  be  off  this  very  minute." 

"  Y"ou  alarm  me,  Don  Manuel,"  said  Dolores.  "I  hope 
nothing  has  happened  to  render  your  stay  unsafe." 

"Not  at  all.  I  leave  on  a  mission  which  will  soon  be 
accomplished.  I  expect  to  be  back  within  a  week  to  place 
myself  at  the  feet  of  your  Ladyship." 

;'  And  where  are  you  going  to  ?" 

"  To  the  camp  of  Arana,  with  messages  from  the  Eoyal 
Audience  and  the  Cabildo.  I  shall  see  your  Father,  the 
Marquis,  and  shall  take  to  him  any  letters  or  messages  your 
Ladyships  may  wish-to  send." 

"  You  are  just  in  time,  Don  Manuel.  I  have  written  a 
long  letter  to  him.  AuntCatita!  Will  you  have  the  kind 
ness  to  bring  it  to  me.  It  is  on  my  table,  and,"  she  added, 
in  an  undertone,  "  stay  away,  or  stay  outside  as  long  as  you 
can,  without  attracting  attention." 

"And  now  what  has  happened,  my  dear  friend?''  asked 
Dolores,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone.  "What  a  fearful 
tragedy  your  plan  has  led  to !" 

"  But  it  has  succeeded.  The  scheme  of  the  conspirators 
is  dead.  There  will  be  no  more  plotting  lor  a  false  king, 
unless  unforeseen  occurrences  should  change  the  situation. 
The  reaction  has  set  in.  The  party  of  action  are  still  fierce 
and  vow  great  things,  but  they  have  been  foiled  most  skill 
fully  in  every  respect,  and  the  King's  servants  will  soon  be 
restored  to  power." 

"  But  what  of  Carrera?  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  his 
fate." 

"  Ah,  then  you  love  him  still !  Even  dead  he  will  be  in 
my  way." 

';  Is  he  dead  ?     For  heaven's  sake  say  no,  Senor  Paredes  l 


270  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

His  death  would  be  our  work,  and  the  Holy  Yirgin  knows 
I  did  not  intend  it." 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  dead  or  alive.  His  body 
has  not  been  found.  The  city  has  been  searched  in  eveiy 
direction.  The  most  diligent  inquiries  have  been  made 
during  the  day,  but  with  no  result.  Nobody  has  seen  the 
body.  Nobody  knows  what  has  become  of  it." 

"  It  is  dreadful,  my  friend.  It  is  dreadful,  doubly  dread 
ful  because  I  suspect  that  your  insane  love  for  me  has 
directed  the  blows  that  laid  him  low." 

u  I  swear  to  you,  Sefiorita,  that  I  am  innocent,  and  that 
I  did  not  foresee,  did  not  even  dream  of  such  a  result.  But 
the  rabble  of  Quito  is  blood-thirsty  and  cruel,  and  when 
once  aroused  it  seems  impossible  to  control  it.  Yet,  if  in 
the  King's  service  sacrifices  become  necessary  or  unavoid 
able,  such  sacrifices  must  be  made.  If  I  had  to  do  this 
thing  over  again,  I  should  not  stop  or  hesitate  even  if  I 
knew  the  lives  of  a  thousand  Carreras  had  to  be  sacrificed. 
But  time  presses,  Senorita.  Let  us  not  waste  it  in  vain 
regrets.  What  is  past  is  past,  and  what  is  done  can  not 
be  undone.  I  have  news  to  tell  you.  Are  you  ready  to 
hear  it?" 

"  Proceed !" 

"  Your  house  has  been  taken  possession  of  by  the  officers 
and  men  whom  Olmos  has  brought  from  Ibarra  and  Coto- 
cachi.  They  will  do  a  great  deal  of  damage,  but  that  can 
not  be  helped  now,  and  your  father  will  have  to  be  in 
demnified  out  of  the  estates  of  the  guilty.  Do  you  think 
they  will  find  papers  or  documents  which  might  com 
promise  any  of  the  King's  friends?" 

"  Indeed,  not,  Senor  Paredes.     Proceed  !  " 

"  The  mob,  after  having  left  Carrera  for  dead,  reassem 
bled  in  the  Great  Square,  and  demanded  the  lives  of  the 
President  and  the  Auditors.  But  in  this  they  were  thwarted. 
The  Audience  was  allowed  to  issue  an  order  to  Arana,  com 
manding  him  to  return  to  Guayaquil,  and  to  remain  there 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  271 

until  the  whole  question  can  be  referred  back  to  the  Vice 
roy  and  the  Court  at  Madrid,  in  order  to  effect  a  compro 
mise,  if  possible.  The  President  and  the  Auditors  are  to 
be  held  as  hostages  for  the  fulfillment  of  this  order,  and  I, 
being  considered  one  of  the  most  trustworthy  partisans  of 
the  Cabildo,  am  to  deliver  the  order  in  person  to  the  Royal 
Commander." 

"  Very  good  !  He  will,  of  course,  disregard  it." 
"  If  his  forces  are  strong  enough,  he  will.  If  not,  prudence 
would  dictate  that  he  should  comply  with  it,  apparently. 
Once  with  Arana  and  your  father,  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to 
suggest  a  plan  of  action  which  will  accomplish  our  objects 
with  the  least  possible  loss  of  time." 

"  And  did  this  arrangement  satisfy  the  populace?  " 
"  With  the  distinct  assurance  that  the  Auditors  shall  die, 
if  Arana  refuses  to  withdraw  to  Guayaquil,  it  was  easy  to 
pacify  the  mob.  If  Arana  disregards  the  order,  means  of 
escape  to  a  sanctuary  will  be  furnished  to  the  Ministers.  I 
have  put  everything  in  splendid  working  order.  You  will 
never  have  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  your  protege,  Senorita. 
There  is  but  one  difficulty  in  the  way.  Roberto  Sanchez 
has  asked  for  reinforcements.  He  has  sent  message  after 
message,  asking,  demanding,  begging,  storming  for  troops. 
He  declares  that  if  the  Quito  troops  had  been  moved  four 
weeks  ago,  Arana  would  now  be  in  the  hands  of  the  Ca 
bildo,  and  old  Sanchez's  life  would  have  been  spared.  The 
young  man's  courage  and  success  thus  far  have  won  him. 
the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  the  Cabildo,  seconding  the 
popular  demand,  have  ordered  troops  to  be  sent  to  him  for 
active  operations,  in  case  Arana  should  refuse  to  with 
draw." 

"  These  troops  will  not  be  sent,  really  ?  " 
"  Yes,  Sefiorita,  it  must  be  done.    We  must  make  a  show 
of  sending  troops  to  the  seat  of  war,  if  we  do  not  want  to 
betray  ourselves.    But  these  troops  will  be  under  the  com 
mand  of  Juan  de  Londono,  who  is  with  us.     He  will  leave 


272  THE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

Quito  to-morrow  with  a  small  force  ;  but  it  will  take  him  a 
long  time  to  get  to  Ambato,  and  he  will  never  reach  the 
place  where  young  Sanchez  wants  him.  If  Arana  disre- 
gai'ds  the  orders  of  the  Audience,  Guzman  de  Leon  is  to 
follow  Londono  with  our  whole  force.  But  there  is  no 
danger  of  that.  Guzman  has  played  his  part  admirably 
and  he  will  play  it  on  as  long  as  necessary." 

"And  Toa  with  her  Indians?" 

"  The  failure  of  the  scheme  to  set  up  a  psendo  King,  with 
the  ambitious  Toa  as  his  Queen,  will  disgust  the  Indians 
with  the  cause  of  the  Cabildo.  Our  friends  have  wearied 
them  with  endless  negotiations  and  arguments,  with  prom 
ises  which  we  never  intended  to  keep,  and  with  demands 
for  gold,  which  they  are  not  inclined  or  able  to  gratify. 
No,  Senorita,  no  danger  threatens  us  now.  We  are  on  the 
high  road  to  an  easy  victory.  The  only  remaining  diffi 
culty  is  that  unmanageable  young  man,  Roberto  Sanchez, 
and  he  is  far  away,  where  he  can  do  no  harm.  I  leave 
everything  in  a  most  satisfactory  condition,  and  regret  noth 
ing  but  the  necessity  of  having  to  be  away  from  you.." 

"  My  thoughts  and  best  wishes  will  be  with  you,  Don 
Manuel." 

"  And  your  love,  too,  Dolores?  " 

"  And  my  love,  too." 

"  Then  I  am  to  hope,  at  last,  that  w-hen  all  our  difficul 
ties  are  over,  }~ou  will  follow  me  to  the  altar." 

"  No,  Don  Manuel,  for  your  own  sake,  I  must  not  marry 
you." 

"  Dolores,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Let  me  speak  frankly,  Manuel  Paredes,  and  you  will 
see  how  much  I  love  you.  Yes,  Manuel,  I  love  you,  more 
than  I  even  loved  my  husband,  because  1  respect  and  ad 
mire  you  as  I  admired  no  man  before.  You  are  a  man, 
Manuel  Paredes.  There  is  none  like  you  in  this  Kingdom. 
You  have  saved  my  father,  you  have  saved  and  protected 


BOOK   IV.      TBE   REACTION.  273 

me,  and  j'ou  will  save  the  King's  cause.  Both  love  and 
gratitude  draw  me  to  you." 

"  And  yet  you  refuse  to  marry  me  ' 

"  Listen  !  You  have  no  rivals.  The  Count  is  dead. 
Carrera  is  dead.  But  you,  Manuel  Paredes,  shall  live. 
Know,  then,  that  1  am  under  a  fearful  spell,  which,  it  seems, 
can  not  be  broken.  Do  you  believe  in  the  predictions  of 
Mama  Rucu?  Did  she  not  predict  the  death  of  Count 
Valverde  in  your  presence  ?  You  heard  her  curse,  and  you 
know  how  dreadfully  it  was  fulfilled  ?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Dolores." 

"  You  shall,  presently.  I  am  cursed  with  one  of  her  pre 
dictions.  There  is  death  in  my  hand  when  given  in  mar 
riage.  There  is  death  even  in  my  thought  of  marriage. 
That  was  her  prophecy.  Now  consider  how  it  was  ful 
filled.  1  disbelieved  and  defied  her  prediction,  and  was 
married.  "In  less  than  a  year  the  ghastly,  bleeding  corpse 
of  my  husband  was  carried  into  my  father's  house.  I 
thought  of  marrying  Count  Valverde.  I  can  confess  it  to 
you  now.  I  did  not  love  him,  but  the  thought  of  exchang 
ing  the  dullness  of  our  provincial  life  for  the  gayeties  and 
splendors  of  the  court  of  Spain,  had  tempted  me  strongly. 
You  know  the  result.  Count  Valverde  is  dead.  There  is 
death,  then,  even  in  my  thought  of  marriage.  And  not  a 
natural  death.  No  !  That  Indian  fiend  has  predicted  a 
a  bloody,  violent,  cruel  death  to  those  whom  I  should  marry 
or  even  wish  or  intend  to  marry.  And  now  Carrera  !  Be 
fore  I  learned  to  love  and  admire  you,  Manuel  Paredes,  I 
had  thought  of  Carrera  as  a  possible  husband,  and  behold 
his  terrible  end.  Can  you  reproach  me,  then,  for  not 
wishing  to  sacrifice  you  by  giving  you  my  hand  in  mar 
riage,  or  even  thinking  of  you  as  a  husband  ?  No,  Manuel 
Paredes,  I  love  you  ;  and  because  I  love  you  I  want  you  to 
live  and  prosper.  Your  heart  I  accept.  I  love  you  too 
much  to  refuse  it.  Your  hand  I  must  refuse." 

At  this  moment,  Aunt   Catita   returned  with  the  letter 


274  THE   SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

Dolores  had  prepared  for  her  father.  "Quick  For  heav 
en's  sake  to  your  mother  ?"  she  exclaimed.  "  Thi-ough  the 
stupidity  of  one  of  the  maids,  who  had  become  unmindful 
of  our  injunctions,  she  has  heard  of  the  death  of  her  son 
and  fainted  away." 

Before  Paredes  had  left  the  Convent,  the  Marchioness  of 
Solando  had  breathed  her  last,  and  Don  Manuel  had  be 
come  the  bearer  of  sad  news  for  his  great  friend  and  pat 
ron  in  the  camp  of  the  Royalists. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

SEVERAL  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  events  narrated  in 
the  preceding  chapters. 

Arana  had  thought  himself  too  weak  to  undertake  the 
march  on  Quito  at  once,  which  would  also  have  involved 
an  immediate  engagement  with  Roberto  Sanchez,  who  had 
recruited  his  band  with  men  drawn  from  Ambato,  Mocha, 
and  Riobamba,  where  he  had  seized  the  royal  treasuries 
and  levied  heavy  contributions  on  the  estates  and  families 
of  the  colonists,  who  had  joined  the  Royal  Commissioner. 
Under  these  circumstances,  the  latter  deemed  it  prudent  to 
affect  compliance  with  the  mock-order  of  the  Audience,  and 
to  withdraw  his  forces  to  the  other  side  of  the  Cordillera, 
there  to  await  the  reinforcements  which  were  coming  to 
him  from  Cuenca,  Loja,  and  the  coast.  Sanchez  followed 
him  with  the  little  army  of  his  own  creation,  under  orders 
from  the  Cabildo,  carefully  to  watch  the  movements  of  the 
Royal  Commissioner,  and  to  hold  himself  ready  to  strike 
at  the  first  hostile  demonstrations  ;  but,  if  no  such  demon 
strations  were  made,  to  respect  the  armistice  concluded 
through  the  intercession  of  the  Quito  Audience  until  the  final 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  275 

determination  of  the  Viceroy  should  be  known.  The  fiery 
Sanchez  chafed  under  the  restraints  imposed  by  these  orders, 
which  he  considered  fatal  to  the  Revolutionarj'  cause ;  but 
in  view  of  his  own  youth  and  inexperience,  he  did  not  dare 
to  counteract  commands  upon  which  older  and  wiser  heads 
had  agreed. 

The  wily  Arana,  however,  did  not  tax  the  impatience  of 
his  youthful  antagonist  too  long.  Reinforced  by  fresh 
levies,  and  relieved  from  his  most  pressing  embamissments 
by  the  opportune  arrival  of  a  vessel  with  supplies  from 
Peru,  the  old  fox  suddenly  broke  away  from  Sanchez,  and 
unmindful  of  the  armistice,  pressed  on  toward  -the  Cordil 
lera,  which  he  prepared  to  repass  by  a  side  road,  whereas 
Sanchez  had  expected  his  advance  along  the  main  road 
(camino  real),  on  which  he  had  fortified  some  of  the  most 
difficult  mountain  passes  against  the  approach  of  the  en 
emy. 

Under  these  circumstances,  left  by  himself  in  the  heart 
of  the  mountains,  and  in  danger  of  being  cut  off  from  his 
communication  with  Quito,  if  Arana  succeeded  in  reaching 
Riobamba,  Sanchez  concluded  to  dash  back  into  the  table 
lands,  and  thence,  by  a  forced  march,  to  reascend  the  Cor 
dillera  and  to  intercept  the  Royal  Commissioner  in  the 
mountain  passes  before  he  had  fully  completed,  his  ar 
duous  and  difficult  descent  into  the  plains.  If  Sanchez 
could  strike  Arana  in  the  wilderness,  he  would  be  at 
the  mercy  of  the  rebel  mountaineers,  who,  availing  them 
selves  of  the  roughness  of  the  wretched  roads,  the  nar 
rowness  of  the  defiles,  and  the  steepness  of  the  preci 
pices,  might,  by  a  lucky  or  skillful  use  of  opportunities, 
decide  the  fate  of  the  campaign  without  the  aid  of  the 
sluggards  at  Quito.  The  plan  was  brilliant  and  prom 
ising,  but  its  success  entirely  depended  on  the  celerity  of 
its  execution.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  elements  con 
spired  against  the  youthful  hero.  Local  rains,  uncommon 
at  this  season  of  the  year,  made  the  roads  so  slippery  that 


276  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

his  men  and  horses  could  move  along  only  with  great  diffi 
culty  and  slowness.  Thus  two  da}*s  were  lost,  while  every 
moment  was  precious.  The  passage  of  the  last  ridge,' 
which  ordinarily  might  have  been  accomplished  in  a  few 
hours,  took  him  nearly  a  day,  and  compelled  him  to  take 
a  short  rest  in  one  of  those  romantic  villages,  hidden 
in  the  folds  of  the  Andean  mountains,  while  he  sent 
scouts  on  fresh  horses,  seized  for  the  occasion,  to  JRiobamba 
and  its  neighborhood,  to  ascertain  the  whereabouts  of 
Arana. 

It  was  a  cold,  cloudless,  and  beautiful  night — one  of 
those  weird  summer  nights  under  the  equator,  when  the 
snowy  dome  of  Mt.  Chimborazo  stands  forth  in  bold  relief 
against  the  deep  dark-blue,  starlit  sky.  Roberto  Sanchez, 
covered  with  a  heavy  woolen  poncho,  stood  on  the  veranda 
of  the  only  habitable  dwelling  in  the  village,  the  house  of 
the  local  Alcalde,  whispering  words  of  gallantry  into  the 
not  unwilling  ear  of  the  Alcalde's  daughter,  who  stood 
leaning  against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  veranda  with  her 
eyes  turned  to  the  bright  stars  above  them,  while  one  of 
her  hands  heedlessly  rested  in  Roberto's. 

u  Do  not  say  to-morrow  or  next  day,  Seuorita,"  said  he, 
rather  sadly.  "  To-morrow  I  am  off.  To-morrow  I  hope 
to  fight,  and  there  may  be  no  to-morrow  for  me  after 
that.'' 

"  The  holy  Virgin  will  protect  you,  Senor !  You  are  too 
young  and  too  handsome  to  die.  I  shall  give  you  an  am 
ulet  which  I  have  worn  ever  since  I  was  a  child.  I  have 
it  from  my  grandfather,  who  received  it  from  a  Moor  in 
Granada,  whom  he  had  befriended  by  great  kindness.  It 
will  protect  you  from  balls  and  steel  and  from  witchcraft, 
but  not  from  water.  You  must  never  take  it  to  sea,  where 
its  good  qualities  are  perverted  into  evil  and  danger." 
And  thus  saying,  she  took  the  amulet  from  her  neck  and 
hung  it  around  his. 

"  Quien  vivef"  shouted  one  of  the  sentinels,  and  the  hoofs 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  277 

of  horses  were  heard  resounding  through  the  stillness  of 
the  night. 

"_Z/a  Patria  /"  answered  a  voice  familiar  to  Sanchez. 
"  Who  commands  here  ?" 

"Roberto  Sanchez!" 

"  Thank  Heaven  !     It  is  he  whom  I  must  see." 

"Do  you  bring  reinforcements?"  inquired  the  sentinel. 

"  No  ;  but  news  and  dispatches.  Where  is  the  comman 
der? 

"  There,  at  the  house  of  the  Alcalde." 

Two  horsemen,  a  caballero  and  his  servant,  presently 
appeared  in  front  of  the  house  and  dismounted.  In  the 
next  moment  Roberto  Sanchez  was  locked  in  the  embrace 
of  his  young  friend,  Carlos  de  Olmos,  the  son  of  Senor  Ol- 
mos,  of  the  Cabildo,  one  of  the  few  trustworthy  leaders  of 
the  party  of  action.  Senor  Olmos  had  sent  his  son  with 
important'messages  to  Sanchez.  A  minute  afterward  the 
whole  camp  was  astir,  burning  with  anxiety  to  hear  the 
news  from  Quito.  The  newcomer  followed  the  young 
chief  into  the  house,  where  they  were  joined  by  two  of 
Roberto's  officers.  The  one  was  his  lieutenant,  the  vet 
eran  Pedro  Perez,  and  the  other  was  Roberto's  adjutant, 
Garcia. 

"  Will  you  refresh  yourself,  amigoT'  inquired  Sanchez. 
"  We  have  but  little  left,  but  it  is  at  your  disposal." 

"  Not  until  I  have  given  you  the  news,"  said  young  Ol 
mos,  taking  off  his  shawl,  poncho,  sword,  and  spurs.  "  I 
have  traveled  night  and  day  to  find  you,  and  came  very 
near  heing  captured  by  the  scouts  of  Arana." 

"  By  the  scouts  of  Arana?"  repeated  Sanchez,  petrified. 
"  Where  do  you  come  from  last  ?" 

'•  From  Riobamba." 

"From  Riobamba?"  continued  Sanchez.  "Man,  what 
do  you  mean  ?  Is  Arana  on  his  way  to  Riobamba?" 

"  He  arrived  there  yesterday,  and  will  continue  his  march 
to  Quito  to-morrow  morning." 


278  THE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

"  Great  Heavens !  Then  he  has  escaped  from  me.  and  all 
my  hopes  are  blasted.  I  expected  to  head  him  off  as  he 
descended  from  the  mountains.  1  should  have  crushed 
him  among  the  cafions.  Now  it  is  over  !  With  my  hand 
ful  of  men  I  can  not  attack  him  in  the  plains.  How  strong 
is  his  force  supposed  to  be  ?" 

"  From  what  I  could  learn,  it  is  estimated  at  from  fifteen 
hundred  to  two  thousand  ;  but  this  must  be  an  exaggera 
tion." 

"  Undoubtedly  !"  said  Sanchez.  "  He  could  not  have 
passed  the  Cordillera  so  swiftly  with  so  large  a  force.  And 
what  has  become  of  our  army?  Does  it  still  exist,  and  will  it 
ever  move?" 

"  You  strike  the  very  object  of  my  mission,  Roberto," 
said  Olmos.  "  I  have  not  been  sent  by  the  Cabildo.  They 
know  nothing  of  my  journey  to  your  camp.  My  father 
has  sent  me.  He  wants  me  to  tell  you  that  he  fears  we 
are  betrayed." 

"By  all  the  demons  of  hell !"  shouted  old  Pedro  Perez, 
while  Sanchez  listened  eagerly,  and  turning  pale.  "  That 
accounts  for  our  inability  to  obtain  reinforcements,  and  for 
the  shameful  inactivity  of  the  authorities  at  Quito." 

"  My  father  fears,"  continued  the  young  man,  "  that 
those  to  whom  the  most  important  commands  have  been 
confided  are  secretly  in  league  with  the  King's  Ministers." 

"  And  whom  does  he  suspect?" 

"  First  of  all,  he  suspects  the  commander-in-chief,  Pedro 
Guzman  ;  and  what  father  merely  suspects  is  clear  as  day 
light  to  me.  Guzman  is  a  traitor,  gentlemen,  a  vile  and 
infamous  traitor.  He  has  frittered  away  our  time  and  re 
sources  without  making  a  move  or  striking  a  blow.  He 
has  paralyzed  our  energies,  and  demoralized  our  men.  He 
has  been  playing  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy  ever  since 
he  assumed  the  command." 

"  Just  what  I   always   thought,"  interrupted  Sanchez ; 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  279 

"  but  why  is  he  left  in  command  ?  The  scoundrel !  1  know 
him,  and  have  always  despised  him." 

"  Because  it  seems  that  the  party  of  the  Bellidistas.  to 
which  your  father  and  mine  belonged,  has  lost  its  power. 
Our  best  men  have  been  sent  to  the  north,  to  resist  an  im 
aginary  force  from  Bogota.  The  troops  whom  Londono 
took  south  with  him  to  reinforce  you,  also  consisted  of  good 
and  reliable  men.  But  the  men  left  at  Quito  are  doubtful. 
A  great  many,  perhaps  half  of  them,  may  be  trustworthy; 
but  the  others  would  side  with  Guzman  and  the  traitors, 
rather  than  with  the  Cabildo.  It  is  evident  that  the  sol 
diers  have  been  tampered  with." 

Sanchez  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  exclaimed  : 
"O  my  father  !  My  poor  father!  Was  he  sacrificed  in 
vain  ?  " 

"  Under  these  circumstances  my  father  can  see  but  one 
remedy.  He  wants  you  to  come  to  Quito  with  your  whole 
force,  if  possible  ;  if  not,  with  at  least  fifty  resolute  men,  and 
to  come  unannounced  and  unexpected,  and  with  the  aid  of 
the  \oyu\  leaders  and  soldiers,  to  change  matters  by  a  bold 
coup  d'  etat.  to  remove  and  imprison  Guzman  and  his  trait 
ors,  to  purge  the  Cabildo  of  its  vicious  elements,  and  then 
to  push  the  war  vigorously  and  boldly,  and  in  accordance 
with  the  original  programme  of  Bellido  and  your  noble 
father.  In  the  success  of  this  coup  lies  our  only  hope.  It' 
it  fails,  we  are  lost  and  will  be  delivered  to  the  hangman 
like  sheep  at  the  shambles.  Your  boldness,  your  dash,  arid 
the  great  reputation  and  popularity  you  have  acquired, 
eminently  qualify  you  for  the  task.  Will  you  undertake  it? 
Will  you  take  the  responsibility  of  acting  without  orders, 
and  in  spite  of  them?" 

Sanchez  had  raised  his  head  from  the  table  while  listen 
ing  to  this  proposition.  The  words  of  young  Olmos  had 
given  him  new  life,  his  eyes  sparkled,  and  every  nerve  and 
fiber  in  his  body  quivered  with  excitement,  and  springing 


280  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

from  his  seat  with  outstretched  arms,  he  pressed  his  friend 
to  his  bosom.  "God  bless  your  noble  father!"  he  ex 
claimed.  "Of  course  I  shall  do  it,  or  perish  in  the  at 
tempt." 

"  Santiago !  Santiago! "  shouted  Perez  and  Garcia.  "  On 
to  Quito,  and  death  to  the  traitors !  " 

"I  shall  make  my  preparations  immediately.  Our 
horses  are  too  tired  to  start  to-night ;  but  we  must  march 
before  daybreak." 

"There  is  one  thing  to  be  considered,"  said  Olmos. 
"Arana  is  now  between  you  and  Quito,  and  you  will  have 
to  pass  him  on  the  way." 

"  He  advances  along  the  main  road,"  said  Sanchez.  "  We 
shall  take  to  the  mountains  above  or  to  the  vallej^s  below 
him.  Arana  will  have  to  lose  a  day  or  two  at  Ambato  ; 
but  we  shall  lose  no  time  anywhere.  By  all  the  Saints  of 
Heaven,  I  swear  that  we  shall  reach  Quito  before  him  !  " 

A  tumult  outside  arrested  the  conversation.  Some  of 
Roberto's  scouts  had  returned.  Thej7  had  met  friends  of 
the  Cabildo,  fresh  from  Riobamba  with  important  news. 
Arana  had  detached  two  hundred  horse  under  the  com 
mand  of  a  Spanish  veteran,  by  the  name  of  Juan  del  Puente, 
to  set  out  in  search  of  Sanchez'  force,  and  to  intercept  and 
to  capture  him. 

"  We  shall  present  our  compliments  to  Sefior  del 
Puente ! "  said  Sanchez  after  the  scouts  had  been  discharged. 
"  If  we  can,  we  must  give  him  the  slip,  because  we  must 
save  our  men  for  more  important  work.  But  if  we  can  not, 
we  shall  try  American  bravery  against  Spanish  brutality." 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  281 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  DESCENT. 

"Do  not  forget,"  said  the  Alcalde's  daughter,  early  next 
morning,  as  .Roberto  had  snatched  a  farewell  kiss  from  her 
not  unwilling  lips,  "beware  of  water  while  you  wear  this 
amulet.  From  every  other  danger  it  will  protect  you." 

And  now  the  march  began,  and  onward  they  toiled,  up 
hill  and  down  hill,  over  mountains  and  through  ravines, 
over  slippery  and  narrow  paths  with  yawning  precipices  on 
one  side,  and  perpendicular  rocks  on  the  other ;  now  through 
defiles  hardly  wide  enough  for  one  man  to  pass,  then  again 
over  the  dreary  paramo  with  its  monotonous  and  oppressive 
desolation.  At  last  they  saw  the  plain  of  Riobamba  at 
their  feet,  with  its  towns  and  villages  almost  hidden  among 
the  willow  trees,  and  surrounded  by  fields  of  green 
clover. 

But  the  troop  of  Sanchez  had  no  time  and  inclination 
to  scan  the  scenery  which  expanded  beftn*e  them  for  objects 
of  natural  beauty  and  grandeur.  If  they  strained  their 
eyes  and  anxiously  looked  down  into  the  plain,  it  was  to 
discover  the  men  of  Del  Puente,  who  had  been  sent  out 
against  them. 

Before  making  the  final  descent  which  would,  for  the 
present,  take  them  away  from  the  sheltering  roughness  of 
the  mountains,  Sanchez  ordered  a  halt,  to  refresh  his  men 
and  horses,  and  to  await  the  return  of  the  scouts  whom  he 
had  sent  ahead.  The  men  had  now  spread  themselves  over 
what  the  Spaniards  call  a  meseta,  a  small  plateau  formed  by 
the  protrusion  of  the  mountain,  from  which  they  com 
manded  the  steep  and  narrow  winding  path  which  led  into 
the  plain  below.  There  they  disposed  of  the  last  of  their 


282  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

provisions  :  they  were  now  out  of  the  wilderness,  and  the 
fertile  country  into  which  they  were  descending  could  sup- 
~p\y  their  wants.  Here  the  merry  bottle  passed  from  hand 
to  hand.  The  weary  limbs  were  rested  after  the  long  ride. 
Some  that  were  soon  to  sleep  the  eternal  sleep  were 
stretched  out  on  the  ground  and  slept  as  quietly  and  se 
curely  as  in  the  days  of  happy  childhood.  Others  forgot, 
over  the  dice-box,  or  a  soiled  and  sticky  pack  of  cards,  the 
danger  that  was  before  them.  Still  others  discussed  the 
political  outlook,  and  shrugged  their  shoulders  at  the  wan 
ing  prospects  of  the  popular  cause.  There  was  no  lack  of 
doubt  and  despondency.  Blindly  they  had  trusted  and 
followed  their  leader,  as  l6ng  as  success  perched  on  his 
banners  ;  but,  since  they  knew  that  Arana  had  slipped 
away  from  him,  and  that  the  enemy  was  nOw  between  them 
and  their  friends  at  Quito,  their  confidence  had  been 
shaken,  and  dark  forebodings  began  to  fill  their  minds. 
Sanchez  felt  this  as  he  passed  from  group  to  group,  and 
noticed  the  half-concealed  change  in  the  tone,  the  smile, 
the  laughter,  the  countenances  of  the  men.  The  wilder 
ness  of  the  mountain  bound  them  to  him  now;  but  would 
he  be  able  to  hold  them  together  after  having  descended 
into  the  plain  ?  Not  unless  the  prestige  of  success  could 
be  restored,  of  which  Arana's  escape  had  deprived  him. 
On  the  restoration  of  this  prestige  his  own  future  useful 
ness  seemed  to  depend.  Hence,  the  conviction  grew  upon 
him  that  he  must  fight  Del  Puente  instead  of  giving  him 
the  slip,  as  he  had  intended. 

"Quien  vive!"  shouted  one  of  the  outposts. 

"A  poor  Indian  and  a  friend,"  was  the  answer  given  by 
a  man  in  the  Indian  garb,  with  a  bundle  on  his  back,  who 
came  slowly  climbing  up  the  mountain  road. 

"Pass  on,"  said  the  sentinel,  who  knew  that  Indians 
were  always  welcome  and  well  treated  at  the  camp  of 
Sanchez ;  because,  contrary  to  their  usual  disposition,  they 
volunteered  information  and  furnished  provisions.  To  the 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  283 

Indians  all  over  the  country  Sanchez  had  become  a  supe 
rior  being,  by  the  favor  bestowed  upon  him  by  Queen  Toa, 
during  the  bloody  night  at  Quito. 

"  I  have  to  speak  to  the  Viracocha  who  commands  these 
soldiers,"  said  the  newcomer. 

"  I  am  the  man,  my  friend.  What  good  news  do  you 
bring?" 

"  May  I  speak  to  your  Grace  alone  ?" 

"Yes,  my  good  man,"  said  Sanchez,  taking  him  aside. 

"  Is  your  Grace  the  possessor  of  Queen  Toa's  silver  moon  ?" 

"  I  am,  my  friend  !"  answered  Sanchez,  showing  him  the 
trinket  which  he  wore  around  his  neck,  "  and  I  am  a  ser 
vant  of  Toa  Duchicela,  and  a  friend  to  your  race." 

"The  great  sun  will  protect  your  Grace  !"  said  the  In 
dian,  kissing  the  silver  moon.  "  I  have  a  letter  to  deliver 
to  your  Grace  from  the  Shyri  Toa.  Here  it  is  !" 

"  God  bless  the  Shyri  Toa,"  said  Sanchez  hastily  open 
ing  the  letter.  It  read  as  follows : 

"  SENOR  DON  EOBERTO  SANCHEZ. — You  are  the  only  true 
friend  I  have  found  among  the  men  of  your  race — the  only 
one  who  has  not  deceived  and  betrayed  me.  The  men  of 
the  Cabildo  have  not  kept  faith  with  me,  and  their  cause  is 
no  longer  my  cause.  The  blood  of  my  people  shall  not  be 
spilled  in  vain.  You  will  know  by  this  time  that  you  and 
your  cause  have  been  betrayed  by  the  same  men  that  be 
trayed  me  and  my  children.  You  have  been  asked  to  re 
turn  to  Quito,  and  I  know  you  will  come.  1  pray  to 
Pachacamac  that  for  your  own  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  my 
cause,  you  may  not  come  too  late.  To  prevent  such  a 
calamity,  I  have  sent  my  servant,  Uma,  to  you.  He  knows 
the  country  better  than  any  of  my  subjects.  He  knows 
every  mountain-pass,  and  he  is  familiar  with  byways  that 
are  known  only  to  the  Indians.  He  will  show  you  in  case 
of  danger  the  shortest  and  the  safest  routes.  His  services 
will  prove  invaluable.  You  can  trust  him  as  implicity  as 


284  THE    SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

you  would  trust  me.  Come  as  fast  as  you  can  and  strike 
without  a  moment's  delay.  You  shall  want  nothing  dur 
ing  your  march  that  my  people  can  provide. 

"  I  have  but  one  word  more  to  say,  although  I  need 
hardly  to  say  it  to  you.  Distrust  Manuel  Paredes.  He 
pretends  great  zeal  in  your  cause,  but  he  is  as  false  as  the 
serpent  of  the  forest.  I  should  have  killed  him  long  ago, 
had  I  not  wished  him  to  live  in  order  to  avenge  my  wrongs 
on  one  who  has~betrayed  me  worse  than  all,  by  making 
him  experience  the  same  sufferings  that  he  has  inflicted 
upon  me. 

"Your  true  and  faithful  friend, 

"  TOA  DUCHICELA." 

"In  the  plain  below,"  resumed  Uma  with  that  dignified 
and  unassuming  calmness  which  characterized  the  old 
nobility  of  his  race,  "about  half  a  league  from  where  this 
mountain  loses  itself  in  the  plain,  is  the  great  hacienda  of 
San  Jose,  to  which  over  three  hundred  Indians  belong. 
The  main  building  is  large,  and  it  is  surrounded  by  a 
number  of  outhouses.  The  headquarters  of  the  Spanish 
commander,  Juan  del  Puente,  are  now  at  that  hacienda. 
There  he  awaits  your  Grace  to  attack  you  as  soon  as  you 
descend  into  the  plain.  He  has  sent  out  detachments  to 
observe  the  two  other  outlets  of  this  range,  and  has  thus 
weakened  himself  to  the  extent  of  nearly  one-half  of  his 
force.  Your  Grace  will  have  to  leave  this  road.  There  is 
a.  subterranean  ravine  about  a  hundred  rods  from  here 
which  descends  from  the  mountain,  and  runs  through  the 
plain,  passing  the  farm-buildings  of  San  Jose.  It  is  over 
grown  with  shrubs  and  trees;  but  it  is  so  deep  and  wide 
that  two  men  abreast  can  walk  through  it.  Your  whole 
force  can  pass  it,  if  you  will  leave  the  horses  behind  under 
guard.  I  have  hidden  chasquis  (couriers)  in  the  ravine 
who  will  inform  the  Indians  at  the  hacienda  of  our  coming. 
They  will  secure  the  horses  of  the  unsuspecting  Spaniards, 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  285 

while  your  Grace  will  fall  upon  the  men.  Your  Grace  can 
surprise  them,  and  kill  them.  If  your  Grace  will  follow 
my  advice,  my  head  shall  vouch  for  its  success." 

"  I  understand  you,  Uma.  An  angel  has  sent  you  to  me. 
Is  the  ravine  dry?  " 

"It  was  full  of  water  yesterday,  but  it  is  nearly  dry 
now." 

Half  an  hour  afterward  the  main  force  of  Sanchez  was 
in  the  ravine.  Swiftly  they  descended  into  the  plain,  and 
cautiously  they  advanced  toward  the  hacienda.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken  as  they  pressed  on.  They  were  com 
pletely  hidden  from  view.  A  dense  growth  of  underwood 
and  shrubbery  covered  the  opening  of  the  chasm.  At  some 
places  the  sides  of  it  nearly  closed  on  top,  darkening  the 
subterranean  passage  completely.  Such  ravines  are  not 
unfrequent  in  the  Andes.  They  arc  formed  and  widened 
by  the  heav}*  volumes  of  water  which,  in  consequence  of 
the  rains  or  the  melting  snows,  rush  down  from  the 
mountains. 

The  water  had  not  entirely  run  out  of  the  ravine.  The 
men  had  to  wade  through  it,  and  to  stumble  over  the  rocks 
which  filled  the  bed  of  the  stream.  Their  advance  was 
necessarily  slow.  Suddenly  it  was  arrested  by  the  tramp 
of  horses  which  they  heard  overhead.  It  terrified  some 
of  the  insurgents,  and  filled  them  with  apprehensions  of  a 
betrayal. 

'  What  is  this?  "  asked  Sanchez  of  Uma. 

"Let  me  climb  on  the  shoulders  of  one  of  your  men,  and 
I  shall  see,"  answered  the  Indian.  This  was  done,  and 
CTina,  carefully  parting  the  shrubbery,  pushed  his  head 
through  the  opening,  and  surveyed  the  plain. 

A  minute  afterward  he  descended.  "  One  of  the  detach 
ments  sent  out  to  watch  the  other  two  roads,  is  returning 
to  the  hacienda.  You  must  get  them  away  before  you 
strike." 

'•How  can  I  do  it?" 


286  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

"  Yery  easily." 

At  the  suggestion  of  Uma,  Sanchez  now  sent  a  command 
to  the  men  left  behind  with  the  horses,  slowly  to  recom 
mence  the  ascent  of  the  mountain,  but  to  join  Sanchez  in 
the  plain  as  soon  as  they  should  see  two  columns  of  fire 
arise,  one  on  each  side  of  the  farm  buildings  of  San  Jose. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,"  said  Pedro  Perez,  as  he  heard  this 
order,  "do  not  do. this.  You  send  away  our  means  of 
safety  and  escape.  Suppose  we  are  betrayed  by  this  man." 

"  No  Indian  will  betray  the  friend  of  Toa  Duchicela," 
replied  Sanchez.  "  Those  horses  are  of  no  use  to  us,  nearer 
or  farther.  We  could  not  reach  them  if  we  fail." 

Sanchez  then,  at  the  dictation  of  Uma,  wrote  a  letter, 
with  the  contents  of  which  we  shall  become  acquainted 
presently. 


CHAPTEK  X. 

THE   SURPRISE. 

"THE  devil  take  you!"  exclaimed  lldefonso  Coronel, 
violently  slamming  down  the  dice-box  with  which  he  had 
been  playing  with  his  superior  officer  and  patron,  Juan  del 
Puente,  on  the  veranda  of  the  farm  building  of  San  Jose. 
"You  have  taken  all  my  money,  as  you  have  stolen  the 
honors  from  me  to  which  I  was  entitled." 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  ungrateful  brute?"  shouted 
Juan  del  Puente,"  "you  are  relapsing  into  one  of  your 
crazy  spells." 

"All  my  earnings  went  into  your  pocket.  You  have 
robbed  me  of  money  as  well  as  preferment.  Have  I  not 
done  as  much  as  you?  Have  I  not  fought  as  bravely  as 
you?  And  now  you  are  put  in  command  of  a  detachment 
— and  what  am  I  ?" 

"  lldefonso  Coronel,  you  are  a  fool !     Have  you  forgotten 


BOOK   IV.      THE    REACTION.  287 

how  often  you  won  of  me  ?  And  even  if  you  lost  to-day, 
whose  money  have  you  lost?  Who  has  kept  you  in  money 
ever  since  we  are  in  America?  Who  has  given  you  the 
chances  which  you  were  too  stupid  to  discover  for  yourself? 
How  often  have  I  saved  your  worthless  life  ?  And  are  you 
not  the  first  officer  on  my  staff?  Go  to,  Ildefonso,  I  have 
lost  all  patience  with  you.  This  very  night  you  shall  go 
back  to  Arana's  camp.  You  had  better  try  your  luck 
among  strangers,  as  you  are  dissatisfied  with  your  truest 
comrade  and  your  best  friend.  Get  yourself  ready.  I  shall 
appoint  Rodriguez  in  your  place." 

"  Well !  "Well !"  said  Ildefonso,  who  always  broke  down 
in  the  midst  of  his  fits  of  anger,  "  how  beastly  you  talk. 
When  a  fellow  has  lost  as  much  money  as  I  have,  he  can 
not  show  the  temper  of  a  lamb." 

"But  you  are  always  abusive  to  the  man  to  whom  you 
owe  your  life  and  what  you  are  now." 

"Do  not  fall  to  preaching  again.  You  know  I  did  not 
mean  it.  Come !  Give  me  another  chance,"  and  thus 
saying,  he  picked  up  the  dice-box  and  shook  it  for  a  fresh 
throw. 

"  Enough  !  Here  is  the  money  you  lost  to-day.  I  do 
not  want  it  now.  You  will  owe  it  to  me  until  next  pay 
day,  or  until  we  play  again.  Now,  it  is  time  to  prepare. 
In  about  an  hour  these  rebels  will  have  descended  into  the 
plain  and  we  must  make  our  preparations.  Eodriguez! 
Have  the  horses  been  fed?" 

"No,  Senor  Captain!  Those  devilish  Indians  are  so 
very  slow  in  bringing  in  the  alfalfa." 

"  Take  two  or  three  of  them  and  lash  the  life  out  of  them 
as  a  warning  to  the  others,  and  threaten  to  kill  them  all 
unless  they  have  fodder  enough  for  all  the  horses  in  five 
minutes  from  now." 

The  wild  curses  of  the  soldiers,  and  the  piteous  shrieks  of 
the  Indians,  soon  announced  to  Del  Puente  that  his  com 
mand  had  been  fulfilled. 


283  THE   SECRET    OF   THE   ANDES. 

A  few  minutes  afterward  the  detachment  noticed  in  the 
previous  chapter  rode  into  the  court-yard.  Two  of  the 
foremost  riders  had  an  Indian  between  them  whom  they 
were  dragging  along.  It  was  Uma. 

"What  news  do  you  bring,  Antonio?"  inquired  Del 
Puente. 

"  The  rebels  are  not  coming  on  the  road  of  San  Pedro. 
I  soon  satisfied  myself  of  that,  and,  hence,  concluded  to  re 
turn.  On  our  way  back,  we  saw  them  encamped  on  the 
mountain,  right  before  us.  and  so  we  hurried  to  join  you." 

"  And  what  is  the  matter  with  this  Indian  ?" 

"  We  saw  him  skulk  in  the  bushes  along  the  road.  He 
first  tried  to  hide  himself,  and,  when  he  saw  that  we  had 
noticed  him,  he  sought  to  run  away.  His  conduct  was  so 
suspicious  that  I  ordered  him  to  be  seized.  While  my  men 
were  taking  him,  he  put  a  piece  of  paper  into  his  month, 
and  endeavored  to  swallow  it,  but  we  choked  it  out  of  him. 
Here  it  is,  Sefior  Captain.  As  I  am  not  a  scholar,  1  could 
not  read  it." 

"  Call  the  Mayordomo,"  said  Del  Puente.  "  He  is  right 
there.  He  can  read." 

The  Mayordomo  of  the  hacienda,  a  Spaniard  by  birth, 
took  the  paper  and  read  it  aloud.  It  contained  the  follow 
ing  lines : 

"  The  Spaniards  are  right  in  front  of  me  at  San  Jose.  I 
can  not  risk  an  engagement  now.  I  shall  reascend  the 
mountain  and  descend  on  the  La  Palma  road  on  the  other 
side.  Meet  me  at  the  hacienda  of  Marcos  Echerri,  which 
I  expect  to  reach  to-night,  under  cover  of  darkness,  and 
bring  all  the  provisions  you  can  get.  We  are  entirely  des 
titute  and  worn  out  by  fatigue. 

"  Your  friend, 

"EoBERTO  SANCHEZ." 

"  Good  for  him  ! "  shouted  Juan  del  Puente.  "  We  shall 
get  him  to-night." 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  289 

"There  they  go  !"  exclaimed  Ildefonso  Coronel,  pointing 
to  the  mountain.  And  really  a  long  line  of  horses,  some 
with  and  some  without  riders,  were  now  seen  in  the  dis 
tance,  slowly  ascending  the  narrow  serpentine  path  leading 
to  the  summit  of  the  lower  range. 

"  They  will  be  completely  exhausted  by  the  time  they 
get  down  on  the  other  side,"  said  Del  Puente.  "  Have  your 
horses  been  fed,  Antonio?" 

"  Yes  ;  we  drove  them  into  a  clover-field  while  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  my  scouts." 

"Do  you  know  the  country?" 

"  As  well  as  my  own  pocket,  Senor  Captain.  I  have 
been  stationed  at  Eiobamba  ever  since  I  am  in  this  miser 
able  province." 

"  Well,  then,  push  on  with  your  men  at  once.  I  shall 
join  you  long  before  the  rebels  have  descended  on  the 
other  side.  -I  shall  stay  here  a  few  hours  yet.  This  thing 
might  be  a  ruse  after  all.  They  might  want  to  get  us  away 
from  here  to  get  down.  We  must  provide  for  every 
contingency.  If  you  meet  Ascasubi's  detachment,  take 
them  along  with  you.  And  now  be  off.  Leave  this  Indian 
to  me." 

Antonio  and  his  troop  departed,  crossing  over  a  wooden 
bridge  covered  with  cro^s-staves  and  gravel,  the  very  ra 
vine  in  which  the  men  of  Sanchez  were  hidden.  Their 
hearts  leaped  with  joy  when  they  beheld  the  success  of  their 
stratagem. 

"And  now,"  said  Del  Puente  to  one  of  his  subalterns, 
"  send  a  few  scouts  up  that  mountain,  and  let  them  be 
wide  awake.  In  the  meantime  we  shall  attend  to  this  In 
dian.  Lift  him  up  here." 

Poor  Uma  was  lifted  on  the  veranda,  and,  surrounded 
by  soldiers,  he  stood  in  well-afteeted  trepidation  before  the 
Spanish  Commander. 

"  What  is  thy  name,  man  ?" 

"  Mariano  !"  replied  the  Indian. 


290  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

"  What  place  dost  thou  belong  to  ?" 

"  To  the  village  on  the  other  side  of  the  range." 

"Who  gave  thee  this  paper?" 

"  The  Sefior  Roberto  Sanchez." 

"  Dost  thou  know  him  ?" 

"  I  had  never  seen  him  before,  but  the  men  called 
him  so." 

"  To  whom  wert  thou  to  give  the  letter  ?" 

"  To  a  gentleman  at  Biobamba,  who  was  to  pay  me 
for  it," 

"  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  Aurelio  Perez !" 

"Dost  thon  know  him  ?" 

"  No,  Scnor." 

"  Where  wert  thou  to  find  him  ?" 

"  At  the  hacienda  of  La  Pal  ma,  near  Riobamba." 

"Dost  thou  know  that  it  is  treason  ugainst  the  King's 
Majesty  to  carry  such  messages?'' 

"  I  swear  by  all  the  Saints  of  Heaven  I  did  not  know 
what  the  letter  contained  !" 

"  But  ihou  knowest  that  Sanchez  is  a  rebel  ?" 

"  I  had  never  heard  of  him  before.  I  have  not  been  out 
of  my  native  village  for  five  years.  I  should  not  have  left 
it  now,  but  he  made  me  go." 

"  How  ?" 

"  He  said  he  would  have  me  whipped  to  death  if  I  re 
fused  ;  and  he  promised  that  the  Senor  Perez  would  pay 
me  well." 

"  It  is  the  greed  for  money,  then,  that  has  made  thee  a 
traitor  to  the  King?" 

"  Misericordia,  Senor ;  I  knew  nothing  of  the  contents 
of  the  paper." 

"  How  many  men  are  there  with  Sanchez?" 

"  From  seventy-five  to  a  hundred." 

"  Didst  thou  count  them  ?" 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  291 

"  Xo,  Senor.  I  merely  judged  so  from  the  quantity  of 
clover  which  we  had  to  cut  for  their  horses." 

"Are  they  in  good  condition?" 
.    "  Quite  a,  number  of  them  complained  of  sickness,  Seflor." 

"  Well,  that 's  about  all  I  care  to  know.  And  now  to 
thce,  man  !  Thou  art  a  traitor  to  thy  King." 

"  Mercy.  Seilor  !     Mercy  !" 

"Who  is  thy  master?" 

"  The  Seflor  Alvai*ez." 

"  Alvarez  of  Riobamba  ?" 

"  Yes,  Senor." 

"  Well,  he  is  a  loyal  subject  to  His  Majesty,  and  for  hia 
sake  I  shall  spare  thy  miserable  life.  But,  as  a  warning 
example  to  the  others,  and  to  keep  them  from  canying 
treasonable  correspondence,  thou  shalt  receive  three  hun 
dred  lashes,  well  laid  on." 

"  Mercy /  Senor  !"  cried  Uma,  throwing  himself  on  his 
knees.  "  1  did  not  want  to  go.  I  did  not  want  to  leave 
my  wife  and  my  little  ones.  I  was  compelled  to  go." 

••  Xo  matter!  As  soon  as  the  Indians  have  brought  in 
the  fodder,  Rodriguez,  you  will  assemble  them  all  in  this 
court-yard,  and  in  presence  of  the  whole  gang,  have  this 
man  tied  to  a  post,  and  see  that  he  gets  his  three  hundred 
lashes." 

"  For  the  Virgin's  sake,  mercy,  mercy,  Senor  !" 

"Take  him  away!" 

Uma  was  taken  away  ;  his  back  was  bared  and  he  was 
tied  to  a  post.  Switches  were  then  cut  from  the  rose 
bushes  in  the  garden,  and  made  ready  for  their  bloody  work. 
Some  of  the  Indian  farm-hands  were  compelled  to  assist  at 
these  preparations.  To  one  of  them  Uma  said,  in  a  lan 
guage  which  not  even  those  who  were  familiar  with  the 
Qnichua  could  understand  :  "  Get  on  the  roof  of  the  house, 
and  as  soon  as  the  chasquis  announce  that  the  foreigners 
have  passed  the  quebrada  (ravine)  of  San  Marcos,  give  the 
signal." 


292        •  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

The  quebrada  of  San  Marcos  was  one  of  those  deep  and 
broad  ravines  which  frequently  intersect  the  Andean  plains 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  mountains.  Its  sides  were  very 
steep  and  it  would  take  considerable  time  for  men,  on  horse-, 
back,  to  descend  on  one  side  and  reascend  to  the  plain  on 
the  other.  Uma's  object  in  postponing  the  attack  by  the 
men  of  Sanchez,  was  to  prevent  Antonio's  troop  from  gal 
loping  back  to  the  hacienda  as  soon  as  they  should  hear 
the  firing^  He  judged  rightly  that  the  reports  of  musketry 
would  bring  them  back  at  once.  The  distance  between 
the  farm  and  the  quebrada  of  San  Marcos  was  not  consid 
erable.  Antonio's  troop  might  return  before  Sanchez  had 
overpowered  Del  Puente.  But  once  on  the  other  side  of 
the  quebrada  of  San  Marcos,  it  would  take  them  at  least 
half  an  hour  to  repass  it.  They  could  not  gallop  through 
it ;  they  would  have  to  descend  into  the  precipice  cautiously 
and  slowly  on  the  farther  side,  and  to  climb  up  with  diffi 
culty  on  the  one  nearest  the  hacienda.  And  in  order  to 
gain  this  time  for  bis  Viracocha  friends,  the  noble  Indian 
submitted  his  bare  back  to  the  cruel  torture,  and  delayed 
the  signal  which  he  was  authorized  to  give. 

The  horses  were  feeding  and  the  Indians  were  driven 
into  the  court-yard.  Two  negroes,  servants  to  the  Span 
iards — negroes  always  had  to  act  as  executioners  in  those 
days — took  their  places  with  Uraa,  one  on  each  side.  A 
Spanish  soldier  stood  by  to  count  the  lashes.  Uma's  eyes 
were  fixed  steadily  on  the  man  on  the  roof  of  the  building. 
And  now  the  word  of  command  was  given  and  the  negroes 
began  to  strike.  They  struck  alternately.  The  thorns  hud 
been  left  on  the  switches  and  the  very  first  blows  lacerated 
the  skin  of  the  victim.  "One — two — three — four" — went 
the  count.  Not  a  groan  or  a  sigh  escaped  the  lips  of  the 
Indian.  "Twenty-one — twenty-two" — counted  the  sol 
dier.  Uma's  eyes  were  on  the  roof.  Some  of  the  switches 
broke  and  had  to  be  changed.  The  fresh  ones  always  did 
fresh  execution.  "Forty!"  The  blood  now  flowed  freely, 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  293 

and  still  Uma  hung  to  the  ring  in  the  post  without  swerv 
ing.  His  eyes  were  on  the  roof.  "Eighty!"  The  man 
on  the  roof  sat  motionless,  but  his  eyes  were  not  on  the 
scene  in  the  courtyard.  Intently  they  scanned  the  distance 
faraway.  "A  hundred!" 

"  Take  a  rest!"  commanded  the  superintending  officer. 
But  now  the  man  on  thereof  began  to  stir.  "Proceed!" 
One — two.  At  this  moment  the  man  on  the  roof  threw 
up  his  arms,  and,  in  a  loud,  ringing  voice,  which  brought 
the  echo  back  from  the  mountains,  shouted,  "  Duchicela !" 

"Duchicela!"  shouted  Uma,  dodging  the  last  blow. 

"Duchicela  !"  shouted  every  Indian;  and  in  an  instant, 
the  Spanish  soldier  who  commanded  the  execution,  lay 
sprawling  in  the  dust. 

"Duchicela!"  repeated  the  Indians,  and  in  the  next  sec 
ond  the  negroes  were  torn  away  from  the  sufferer  and 
trampled  down,  and  Uma  was  released,  echoing  the  battle- 
cry:  "Duchicela!  Duchicela!" 

The  Spaniards  were  dumbfounded  by  this  unexpected 
piece  of  Indian  audacity,  and  would  have  fallen  upon  those 
unarmed  creatures  with  terrible  severity,  had  not  another 
enemy  monopolized  their  attention.  One  of  the  Spanish 
sentinels  came  running  toward  the  gate  of  the  court-yard, 
but  the  report  of  an  arquebus  was  heard,  and  he  dropped 
down  dead.  And  now  there  was  another  and  another,  and 
some  of  the  men  of  Sanchez  rushed  through  the  open 
gate. 

"  To  your  guns,  men  !"  shrieked  Del  Puente.  ''  Secure 
your  horses !" 

"  The  horses  are  secured,  Senor  Del  Puente,  and  you, 
too,"  said  a  voice  right  behind  him.  It  wras  Eoberto  San 
chez,  who,  with  another  party  of  men,  after  killing  or  driv 
ing  away  the  sentinels,  had  entered  the  building  through 
the  windows.  "  You  are  my  prisoner  !" 

Eesistance  was  useless.     Both  Del  Puente  and  Coronel 


294  THE    SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

were  overpowered  and  disarmed  before  they  bad  recovered 
from  their  surprise. 

The  struggle  inside  and  outside  the  building  was  of  short 
duration.  The  Spaniards  scattered  in  every  direction,  and 
were  pursued  Toy  the  men  of  Sanchez,  who  had  captured 
and  mounted  the  Spanish  horses.  And  now  the  Indian 
carnival  of  revenge  began.  The  heart-blood  of  the  Span 
ish  prisoners  was  exacted  as  the  penalty  for  the  blood  of 
Uma.  They  were  dispatched  with  clubs,  hatchets,  rakes, 
shovels,  knives,  or  any  other  weapons  that  were  in  rench. 
They  were  literally  torn  in  pieces  by  the  infuriated  In 
dians,  whose  savage  nature,  embittered  by  years  of  op 
pression,  had  been  unchained.  Before  the  Eevolutionary 
commander  could  stop  or  even  notice  this  carnage,  most  of 
the  bloody  work  had  been  done.  At  the  same  time,  two 
columns  of  fire  arose  on  each  side  of  the  main  building, 
the  signal  to  the  men  on  the  mountain,  who,  soon  after 
ward,  were  seen  redescending  the  narrow  path  from  which 
they  had  disappeared  a  short  while  ago. 

'•For  heaven's  sake!"  exclaimed  Sanchez,  as  he  em 
braced  the  bleeding  Uma,  "  what  have  they  done  to  you?" 

"I  am  safe,  your  Grace !"  answered  the  Indian,  return 
ing  the  affectionate  greeting  of  the  young  commander. 
"  Do  not  waste  the  precious  moments  on  me.  Eally  your 
men,  for  the  enemy  whom  our  stratagem  has  sent  away, 
will  soon  be  upon  us." 

"  I  know,  my  friend.  Let  the  bugles  be  sounded,  Garcia. 
We  must  get  ready  at  once.  But,  first  of  all,  your  wounds 
shall  be  attended  to." 

"Leave  this  to  the  medicine-men  of  my  race,"  said  Uma. 
"I  shall  be  with  your  Grace  as  soon  as  1  can  be  of  service 
again."  And^  with  these  words,  he  withdrew,  calm  and 
dignified,  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  betraying  the  painful- 
ness  of  his  wounds. 

"  And  now  let  us  put  a  guard  over  these  prisoners,"  said 
Sanchez  to  his  lieutenant,  Perez. 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  295 

"  Would  it  not  be  bettor  to  kill  them  ?"  suggested  the  old 
man.  "  A  dead  enemy  can  not  fight  again." 

"  Do  not  think  of  it,  friend  Perez.  These  two  men  are 
officers,  and  will  be  valuable  hostages.  Moreover,  an  ex 
change  of  prisoners  muy  soon  become  desirable  to  our  side. 
Let  them  bring  in  all  the  prisoners  and  have  them  well  se 
cured  and  guarded  in  this  building  until  after  the  battle." 

The  horses  of  Del  Puente's  troop  were  in  excellent  con 
dition,  but  not  enough  for  all  the  men  of  Sanchez,  and  as 
his  own  horses  could  not  be  on  hand  in  time  for  the  en 
gagement,  the  best  marksmen  were  selected  for  infantry 
service.  It  is  remarkable  by  what  small  numbers  in  those 
early  Peruvian  civil  wars  battles  were  fought  which  de 
cided  the  most  important  contests. 

The  men  of  Sanchez  had  rallied  in  front  of  the  farm 
buildings,  when  their  commander  joined  them.  A  wild 
shout  of  welcome  rent  the  air  the  moment  they  descried 
him.  The  gloomy  despondency  of  the  forenoon  had  given 
way  to  fresh  courage  and  enthusiasm.  The  leader  whom 
they  had  followed  had  retrieved  himself.  Again  he  had 
grasped  success.  Again  he  had  won,  confirmed,  and 
strengthened  their  shaken  confidence.  The  Spanish  vet 
eran  who  had  been  sent  out  to  capture  them,  had  become 
their  prisoner.  It  was  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 

"Comrades  and  countrymen  !"  said  Sanchez,  as  he  rode 
up  to  the  front.  "  This  is  no  time  for  words.  This  time 
we  took  them  by  surprise.  Now  we  must  show  them  that 
we  can  fight.  We  arc  superior  to  them  in  numbers.  Let 
us  show  that  we  are  their  superiors  in  courage.  Thus  far 
we  have  not  met  with  a  defeat ;  and  another  victory  is 
within  our  grasp.  Consider  that  our  lives  depend  upon  our 
success.  To-night  we  shall  sup  in  Kiobamba  !  And  now 
1'orward  !  '  Duchicela  !'  shall  be  the  battle-cry.  Let  us 
take  them  as  they  emerge  from  the  ravine." 

This  speech  was  received  with  loud  acclamations,  after 
which  the  final  dispositions  were  made.  A  vanguard  was 


296  THE    SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

sent  forward  under  young  Garcia.  Sanchez  himself  led  the 
main  force,  and  Pedro  Perez  was  assigned  to  the  command 
of  the  reserve. 

The  Revolutionary  force  had  not  advanced  very  far, 
when  the  first  of  Antonio's  riders  emerged  from  the  great 
ravine  of  San  Marcos.  This  gave  Sanchez  a  tremendous 
advantage.  He  had  the  enemy  at  his  mercy.  One  part  of 
the  Royalists  was  ascending  the  ravine  on  the  hacienda  side, 
while  the  others  were  still  descending  into  the  precipice  on 
the  other  side.  The  few  that  were  out  of  the  defile  had  no 
time  to  form,  before  the  insurgents  were  on  them.'  The 
Royalists  could  not  withstand  the  shock.  Their  rout  was 
complete. 

Before  the  shades  of  night  had  alien,  Sanchez  with  his 
prisoners  was  at  Riobamba,  and  held  it  once  more  for  the 
cause  of  the  Revolution.  But  that  cause  was  on  the  wane. 
It  would  have  been  better  for  the  young  commander  not 
to  allow  his  soldiers  the  luxury  of  a  night's  rest  tinder  the 
sheltering  roofs  of  a  large  town.  At  Riobamba  they  learned 
what  until  now  they  had  but  partly  known,  or,  at  least,  but 
vaguely  apprehended.  They  were  told  of  the  helplessness 
of  the  Quito  authorities,  of  their  irreparable  losses  of  time, 
spirit,  and  substance,  of  the  apparent  hopelessness  of  the 
popular  cause,  and  of  the  large  numbers  and  splendid  equip 
ments  of  Arana's  forces.  It  demoralized  and  disheartened 
them,  in  spite  of  the  brilliant  success  they  had  just  achieved. 
When  the  trumpets  called  them  to  the  rally  of  the  morn 
ing,  hardly  one-half  of  the  victors  of  yesterday  responded 
to  the  call.  The  others  had  deserted  during  the  night  or 
at  early  daybreak,  or  were  hiding  away  in  or  around  Rio 
bamba.  Some  had  even  spurred  their  horses  to  overtake 
Arana,  in  order  to  make  their  submission  acceptable  by  its 
timeliness,  and  by  the  information  they  could  give.  Rob 
erto's  heart  sank,  when  he  saw  how  his  band  had  dwindled 
down.  Would  he  be  safe  with  those  who  had  remained? 
Would  they  not  attempt  to  earn  a  full  pardon  with  golden 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  297 

rewards,  b}7  delivering 'their  leader,  the  arch -traitor,  into 
the  hands  of  the  Royal  Commander?  Such  treachery  had 
not  been  uncommon  in  the  civil  wars  of  Peru.  Yet,  ho 
must  run  this  risk.  He  had  no  alternative.  His  timely 
arrival  at  Quito,  and  if  it  were  with  a  dozen  resolute  men, 
was  the  last  hope  on  which  his  cause  and  his  life  depended. 
And  Arana?  Should  he  turn  back  on  the  enemy  in  his 
rear  and  finish  him  before  continuing  his  march  to  Quito? 
This  was  the  course  which  the  Marquis  de  Solando  and 
other  loyalists  advised.  But  the  old  fox  would  not  listen 
to  it.  Quito  was  the  head  and  the  soul  of  the  rebellion. 
That  head  he  would  strike.  Sanchez  was  but  a  distant 
limb  which  could  not  move  or  live  after  the  head  had  fal 
len.  With  Quito  in  Arana's  power,  the  troop  of  Sanchez 
would  dissolve  of  itself.  Hence,  onward  the  old  man 
pressed  unmindful  of  the  young  enthusiast  in  his  rear. 
But  Sanchez  did  not  long  remain  in  the  rear.  While 
Arana  advanced  through  the  table-lands  and  the  valleys, 
Sanchez  climbed  over  the  mountains,  endeavoring  to  pass 
the  Boyalists,  so  as  to  reach  Quito  before  them.  The  latter 
had  the  advantage  of  better  roads  and  populated  districts 
rich  in  provisions  ;  but  the  rebels  were  guided  by  Uma 
and  his  men,  who  knew  all  the  byways  and  recesses  of  the 
Cordillera;  and  while  Guzman  Ponce,  Paredes,  Londono, 
and  other  traitors  lulled  themselves  into  a  comfortable  be 
lief  that  the  army  of  Arana  formed  a  safe  barrier  between 
them  and  the  guerrillas  of  Sanchez,  the  latter,  worn-out 
and  foot-sore,  half-starved  and  half-frozen  on  the  cold 
mountain-passes  and  paramos,  but  undaunted  and  clinging 
to  their  two  principal  prisoners,  Del  Puente  and  Coronel, 
appeared  at  the  southern  gate  of  Quito.  And  Arana  was 
still  a  day's  march  from  the  Capital. 


298  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

MARIQUITA. 

"  What  does  this  noise  mean,  Mother?"  asked  Mercedes, 
while  bending  lovingly  over  the  cradle  of  her  babe.  "Men 
on  horseback  were  dashing  by  here,  to  and  fro,  shouting 
and  cheering,  while  you  were  at  church.  Some  one  was 
hammering  at  our  door,  but  the  girl  was  out,  and  I  was 
afraid  to  open.  Besides,  I  could  not  have  left  the  child." 

Dona  Mariquita  who  had  just  entered  the  room,  placed 
her  hands  on  her  daughter's  shoulders,  gently  turned  her 
around  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead  :  "  He  has  come 
back,  my  child." 

"  Oh,  Mother  !  "  exclaimed  Mercedes  ;  and  without  an 
other  word,  threw  herself  in  Dona  Mariquita's  arms, 
and  wept. 

And  again  the  tramp  of  horses  was  heard  outside,  and 
the  riders  shouted:  "Viva  el  Senor  Roberto  Sanchez! 
Death  to  the  Audience  !  Death  to  the  traitors  !  " 

"Have  you  seen  him,  Mother?"  asked  the  girl  with 
anxious  expectation. 

"No,  child,  I  have  not." 

"When  did  he  arrive?" 

"  Early  this  morning,  and  Santa  Maria!  wbat  a  commo 
tion  his  arrival  has  caused.  The  city  is  wild  with  excite 
ment.  They  say  he  has  come  to  kill  the  Auditors,  the 
commanders,  and  more  than  one-half  of  the  members  of  the 
Cabildo." 

"  Oh,  Mother,  Mother !     It  is  false." 

"  Still  they  all  believe  it.  Guzman  Ponce  de  Leon,  the 
commander-in-chief,  has  fled  to  the  Royal  camp.  He  has 
taken  with  him  one  of  the  Auditors,  the  Senor  Cabeza  de 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  299 

Mcncses.  The  President  and  the  other  Auditors  have 
taken  sanctuary  in  the  Church  of  San  Francisco,  "which  is 
now  surrounded  by  a  mob  of  fierce  and  excited  men,  who 
vow  that  nobody  shall  be  allowed  to  carry  food  or  drink  to 
the  unfortunate  Ministers.  Detachments  of  soldiers  are 
searching  the  houses  for  the  suspected.  They  are  seeking 
Juan  de  Londono  and  Manuel  Paredes,  whom  Roberto 
wants  to  hang." 

'•  Holy  Virgin  !     Have  mercy  ! " 

"  The  .Revolutionists  are  crazy  with  enthusiasm  over  your 
lover.  He  is  the  master  of  the  town  now,  and  does  as  ho 
pleases  He  has  disarmed  one  battalion,  and  imprisoned 
over  fifty  officers  and  men.  They  say  he  will  shoot  twenty 
to-morrow,  in  the  Plaza  of  Santa  Clara." 

"  O  Mother,  it  can  not  be  !  " 

"He  is  hurrying  troops  in  every  direction.  They  are 
fortifying  Ml.  Panecillo  and  the  bridge  near  our  house. 
They  say  that  Roberto  has  dismounted  but  once  since  his 
return.  He  is  in  the  saddle  continually,  and  sees  to  every 
thing  himself.  The  King's  friends  are  terrified,  and  t;,c 
Bellidistas  have  everything  their  own  way  again,  and 
swear  that  the  world  never  saw  a  man  like  young  Sanchez." 

••And  what  will  be  the  end  of  these  dreadful  doings?" 

'•  Let  us  pray  to  God  to  have  mercy  on  us  all.  Be  com 
posed  Merceditas,  and  put  your  trust  in  the  Virgin.  You 
must  be  prepared  for  the  worst." 

"  Oh  my  child  !     My  poor  little  child  !  " 

'•  This  Revolution  can  not  succeed.  Who  can  prevail 
against  the  King  of  Spain,  before  whom  the  monarchs  of 
the  world  are  trembling?  Arana  is  said  to  be  at  Macha- 

O 

chi  with  a  large  army.  He  will  soon  be  here,  and  all  re 
sistance  will  be  in  vain.  He  will  take  the  city." 

"  He  will  take  the  city,  and  then  ?  " 

"  And  then,  my  poor  Merceditas,  that  babe  of  yours  will 
be  without  a  father.  It  is  dreadful,  but  it  can  not  be  other 
wise — and  the  Virgin  will  give  you  strength  to  bear  it. 


300  THE   SECRET    OP   THE   ANDES. 

You  must  not  forget,  Mercedes,  that  your  child  will  want 
a  mother,  when  his  father  is  gone." 

Mercedes  had  slipped  from  her  mother's  arms,  and  lay 
prostrate  and  sobbing,  at  the  foot  of  the  cradle. 

"  How  glad  I  would  be,  daughter,  if  I  could  give  3*011 
better  consolation  ;  but  I  know  that  the  blow  must  come, 
and  it  is  my  duty  to  prepare  you  for  it.  Be  brave,  Mor- 
cedes,  and  think  of  your  child.  Roberto  Sanchez  has 
wrought  his  own  destruction,  and  there  is  no  help  for  him." 

A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door  of  the  shop  below,  and 
still  another.  "I  must  go  down  and  see  who  it  is,"  said 
Dofia  Mariquita,  lighting  a  candle.  "  Be  sensible,  Mer- 
ceditas.  Perhaps  things  may  turn  out  better  than  you 
fear;  but  you  must  prepare  for  the  worst." 

With  these  words,  Dona  Mariquita  left  the  room,  and  de 
scended  to  the  shop.  The  street  door  was  bolted  and 
barred,  and  before  she  opened  it,  she  asked :  '•  Who  knocks?" 

"  It  is  I,  commadre!"  said  a  male  voice. 

"  Who  is  this  I?    Let  me  hear  your  name." 

"  Do  n't  you  know  me,  Dona  Mariquita,  your  compadre, 
Tomas  Jaramillo  ?  Open  the  door  as  quick  as  you  can,  for 
the  love  of  God  !" 

"  I  do  not  dare  to  open  the  door  to-night." 

"  But  you  roust  let  me  in,  commadre.     I  am  in  danger." 

"  Then  come  around  to  the  rear  entrance.  I  shall  open 
the  corral  door  for  you." 

This  was  done.  Mariquita  led  her  visitor  through  the 
corral  and  court  into  the  shop,  and  there  they  seated  them 
selves  by  the  dim  and  flickering  light  of  a  tallow  candle. 

':  You  must  let  me  stay  here  for  a  day  or  two,  commadre," 
said  the  Mayordomo  of  Paredes.  "  I  should  not  know 
where  to  go,  if  you  were  to  refuse  me  this  shelter." 

"  But  why  should  you  want  to  hide  yourself,  Don  Tomas  ? 
You  have  not  done  anything." 

"  But  they  are  after  my  master  ;  and,  if  the}*  should  take 
me,  they  would  question  me  about  him.  They  might  put 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  301 

me  to  the  rack  to  make  me  tell  what  I  do  not  know.  Upon 
my  soul,  commadre,  I  do  not  know  where  my  master  is. 
He  was  warned  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  Five  minutes 
later,  and  he  would  have  been  taken.  Roberto  Sanchez 
hates  him.  There  is  an  old  grudge  between  them.  I  know 
it,  commadre.  I  have  witnessed  several  of  their  quarrels. 
My  master  would  be  a  dead  man  now,  if  Roberto  Sanchez 
had  caught  him." 

"Por  Dios  !  What  terrible  times  !"  said  Dona  Mariquita, 
pouring  out  a  glass  of  liquor  for  her  visitor.  "And  who 
warned  him  ?" 

"That  is  the  strangest  of  all  the  wonderful  incidents  of 
this  rebellion.  The  warning  came  from  a  quarter  where 
we  should  have  expected  the  bitterest  hostility,  rather  than 
an  act  of  kindness.  It  came  from  the  Indian  Queen." 

"  You  astonish  me  more  and  more,  Don  Tomas.  Oh,  tell 
me  how  it  was  !" 

"  A  few  moments  before  the  men  of  Sanchez  came  dash 
ing  toward  our  house,  an  Indian,  whom  I  had  never  seen, 
presented  himself  to  my  master.  It  is  wonderfully  strange !" 
said  Don  Tomas,  as  he  paused  to  sip  his  liquor.  "  The  In 
dian  talked  as  if  he  had  been  a  white  man  and  a  nobleman. 
'  Senor  Parcdes  ! '  he  said,  as  familiarly  as  if  he  had  been 
my  master's  equal.  '  Senor  Paredes !  I  have  come  to  re 
turn  good  for  evil.  I  have  come  to  save  your  life.  1  am 
the  messenger  of  Queen  Toa.  She  has  just  learned — you 
need  not  know  how — that  Roberto  Sanchez,  who  at  this 
very  moment  has  entered  the  city,  has  determined  to  hang 
you  within  thirty  minutes  after  his  arrival,  and  she  has 
sent  me  to  warn  you.  You  must  flee  at  once.  There  is  no 
time  to  be  lost.  Change  your  apparel.  Don  the  garb  of  a 
Mestizo,  and  leave  your  house  this  very  instant.  The  riders 
of  Sanchez  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.'  And,  with  these 
words,  the  strange  Indian  left  us  thunderstruck.  My  mas 
ter  at  first  refused  to  believe  him.  But  I  hurried  him  into 
my  room,  made  him  change  his  clothes,  and  then  we  both 


302  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

left  the  house.  Before  we  had  reached  the  next  corner,  the 
men  of  Sanchez  were  at  our  door.  By  all  the  Saints  of 
Heaven,  it  was  a  narrow  escape!" 

"And  where  is  your  master  now?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  He  may  still  be  in  the  city.  He  may 
have  taken  sanctuary,  or  he  may  have  gone  to  Aranu's 
camp." 

"And  what  did  you  do?" 

"  Through  corrals  and  gardens  and  side  streets,  I  made 
my  way  to  the  Recoleta  of  San  Domingo,  and  there  I  hid 
until  nightfall.  Then  I  gathered  courage  and  came,  here. 
And  now,  commadre,  we  must  have  a  talk.  There  is  a  gold 
piece  for  you.  Take  it  now  for  the  trouble"  I  may  give  you. 
And  here,"  he  added,  as  he  displayed  the  bright  pieces  to 
the  glittering  and  greed}'  eyes  of  Dofia  Mariquita,  "  are  two 
more,  which  you  shall  have  if  you  can  keep  me  here  in 
safety  until  the  Royal  troops  have  taken  possession  of  the 
town.  I  came  here  because,  of  all  the  houses  in  Quito,  I 
consider  this  the  safest  for  me.  The  rebels  will  not  trouble 
the  house  where  their  chief's  sweetheart  lives." 

"  My  dearest  compadre"  said  Dofia  Mariquita,  with  a 
sudden  change  of  tone,  "  you  have  no  idea  bow  glad  I  am 
to  be  of  some  service  to  you.  You  will  be  perfectly  safe 
here.  !Nobod}*  shall  know  that  you  arc  here." 

"  You  will  not  tell  your  daughter,  of  course  ?" 

"  Why,  Don  Tomasito,  you  do  not  think  I  am  a  lunatic? 
The  girl  shall  know  nothing  about  you.  She  would  tell 
Sanchez.  She  is  still  madly  in  love  with  him,  and  could 
not  keep  any  secrets." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  expected,  commadre."  said  Tomas  ; 
"  and  to  show  you  how  much  I  confide  in  you,  I  shall  give 
you  the  rest  of  the  money  now.  There  !  take  it !  There  is 
no  spark  of  distrust  in  me,  and  I  hope  you,  too,  will  trust 
me.  It  will  be  to  your  interest." 

"  God  bless  you,  compadre,"  answered  the  woman  as  she 
clutched  the  money.  "You  are  the  dearest  man,  and  I 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  303 

should  dio  rather  than  betray  you.  You  will  be  as  safe 
here  as  in  the  Bishop's  Palace.  But,  tell  me,  compadrecito, 
how  do  you  come  by  so  much  money  ?  You  seem  to  be 
possessed  of  a  royal  fortune." 

"  Ah,  Doiia  Mariquila,"  said  Tomas  with  a  significant 
wink,  "  there  is  money  to  be  made  in  these  troublous  times. 
There  is  more  to  be  gotten  where  this  came  from,"  he 
added,  jingling  other  pieces  of  gold  and  silver  in  his  pock 
ets. 

"  Of  course,  }-ou  came  by  it  honestly,"  said  the  woman. 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  take  me  for  a  rogue,"  exclaimed  the 
Mayordomo  with  an  air  of  virtuous  indignation.  "  What 
I  have  here  I  made  by  serving  the  cause  of  our  master,  the 
King,  whom  it  is  my  bounden  duty  to  obey.  It  is  God's 
command  that  the  subject  should  serve,  honor,  and  obey 
the  King."  . 

"Of  course  he  should,"  assented  the  woman.  "It  is  a 
sin  and  a  shame  if  he  does  not.  Ah,  if  I  were  a  man !" 

"  Why,  commadre  ?" 

"  Well,  you  are  a  man,  and  I  hear  the  gold  jingle  in  your 
pockets.  Would  you  have  gotten  it  without  opportunities, 
and  would  you  have  had  these  opportunities  had  you  been 
born  a  woman  ?" 

"  Why,  commadre,  I  would  give  all  I  have  here  for  the 
grand  opportunity  which  is  within  the  reach  of  a  woman 
whom  I  know.  I  should  have  enough  to  live  in  affluence 
for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  added  JVlariquita  with  eager  in 
tensity. 

"  What  do  I  mean,  commadre?  I  mean  that  some  peo 
ple  have  eyes  and  can  not  see  ;  that  they  have  ears  and 
can  not  hear;  that  they  have  hands  and  can  not  grasp 
what  is  within  their  reach." 

"  Explain  yourself,  compadre,  for  the  love  of  God  !" 

"Do  you  really  require  additional  explanation,  comma- 
dre?  Where  is  your  usual  keenness?  1  never  found  you 


304  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

dull  before.  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  are  blind  to  the 
glorious  opportunity  right  under  your  nose?" 

"  Wait  a  moment,  compadre"  said  Dofia  Mariquita.  "  I 
want  to  see  whether  our  hand-maiden  has  come  back.  She 
might  be  listening." 

Doiia  Mariquita  left  the  shop,  looked  around  in  the  court 
yard,  listened  at  the  top  of  the  staircase,  and  then  returned 
to  her  visitor,  closing  the  door  behind  her. 

"  Nobody  can  hear  us,  compadre.  Now  tell  me  what 
you  mean  !" 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

BETWEEN   THE   CUP   AND   THE   LIP. 

On  the  day  after  the  scenes  described  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  the  vanguard  of  Arana  appeared  in  the  plain  to 
the  south  of  Quito.  The  Roj'al  scouts  dashed  up  to  the 
very  gates  of  the  capital.  Sanchez  had  labored  with 
superhuman  exertion,  but  he  had  not  quite  completed  his 
preparations.  On  the  next  day,  however,  he  hoped  to  be 
ready  for  an  offensive  movement,  by  taking  possession  of 
the  villages  and  other  commanding  positions  between 
Quito  and  Tambillo,  at  which  latter  place  the  Royal  com 
missioner  had  temporarily  established  his  headquarters. 

But  now  nature  demanded  her  rights.  Instead  of  rest 
ing  after  the  exhaustive  fatigues  and  hardships  of  his  march 
over  inhospitable  mountains,  and  through  shelterless  soli 
tudes,  Roberto  had  accomplished  herculean  tasks  in  seizing 
the  reins  of  government,  reorganizing  the  forces  of  the 
Cabildo,  weeding  out  those  who  were  suspected  of  treason 
able  intents,  and  hastily  preparing  his  reconstructed  bat 
talions  for  the  decisive  conflict.  He^  labored  from  the 
morning  of  his  arrival  until  the  early  dawn  of  the  follow 
ing  day.  But  then  his  strength  gave  way.  His  Lieuten- 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  305 

ant,  Pedro  Perez,  had  already  succumbed  to  excessive  fa 
tigue,  and  was  confined  to  his  bed  by  a  fit  of  utter  prostra 
tion,  of  which  Sanchez  took  warning.  Leaving  old  Senor 
Olmos  in  command,  the  young  hero,  accompanied  by  his 
aid,  Garcia,  and  a  few  of  his  most  trusted  men,  whom  he 
had  constituted  his  body  -guard,  re-entered  his  paternal  man 
sion,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  left  it  with  his  poor 
father  on  their  way  to  Ambato  and  Riobamba.  The  tears  of 
the  iron  boy  flowed  freely  as  he  lay  in  the  trembling  arms 
of  his  mother,  who  had  watched  and  waited  for  him  along, 
weary  night,  anxiously  expecting  him  every  minute,  and 
starting  at  every  footstep  in  the  street,  in  the  hope  that  it 
would  be  that  of  her  darling. 

"  But  now,  Mother,  I  must  sleep.  I  could  give  ten  years 
of  life  for  an  hour  of  sleep.  Have  the  kindness,  Mother, 
to  see  to  the  comfort  of  these  gentlemen,  and  let  me  retire." 

There  he  lay,  locked  in  the  healthy  sleep  of  youth,  with 
an  anxious  and  haggard  mother  bending  over  him.  He 
lay  undisturbed  by  her  burning  tears  which  trickled  down 
on  his  sunburnt  face,  bronzed  by  the  winds  and  rains  of 
the  Paramo.  There  he  lay,  undisturbed  by  the  dangers 
that  had  gathered  around  ;  undisturbed  by  the  uncertainty 
of  what  the  next  moment  would  bring.  His  mother's  eye 
watched  over  him.  The  unfortunate  lady  had  lost  her  hus 
band  ;  would  her  son  be  spared?  Was  it  possible  that  this 
rebellion  could  succeed  ?  And  what  must  be  the  fate  of 
her  darling  if  it  failed  ? 

Roberto's  rest  should  not  be  of  long  duration.  Two  or 
three  important  messages  came,  which  brooked  no  delay, 
and  thus  his  sleep  was  broken  repeatedly.  Not  until  after 
sunrise,  he  fell  into  a  sleep  which  might  have  been  refresh 
ing,  had  it  not  been  for  a  terrible  dream.  He  felt  himself 
seized  by  unseen  hands,  from  which  he  vainly  endeavored 
to  escape.  He  was  pressed  to  the  ground  by  a  tremenduous 
weight,  which  soon  rendered  him  incapable  of  moving  his 
arms  or  legs.  He  tried  to  utter  a  cry,  but  his  voice  failed 


30<)  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  ANDES. 

him.  He  could  not  give  forth  a  sound.  When,  at  last, 
with  an  almost  superhuman  effort,  he  broke  into  a  groan, 
he  awoke,  with  the  cold  perspiration  on  his  forehead,  and  a 
heavy,  inexplicable  sensation  of  dark  forebodings  in  his 
heart. 

"  Garcia !  Garcia  !  Are  you  awake  ?" 

No  ;  the  young  man  still  lay  stretched  out  on  the  sofa 
on  which  he  had  thrown  himself  the  moment  he  had  en 
tered  the  room.  There  he  lay,  in  the  same  position  into 
which  he  had  dropped  the  night  before.  Sanchez  thought 
it  would  be  cruel  to  wake  him. 

"Sentinel!" 

The  door  opened,  and  the  sentinel  saluted. 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"  Nine  o'clock." 

"  That 's  very  late.     Is  there  anybody  waiting  for  me  ?" 

"Yes,  Senor.  There  is  a  woman  below  who  wishes  to 
see  your  Grace.  There  is  also  an  old  Indian,  who  says 
that  he  came  by  appointment. 

"Yes!  Yes  !"  said  the  young  man,  springing  from  his 
bed  and  beginning  to  dress  himself.  '-Let  him  come  in." 

It  was  Cundurazu.  He  seemed  sadl}*  changed.  Disap 
pointed  hopes  had  done  what  age  alone  would  not  have  ac 
complished.  They  had  bowed  his  head  and  bent  his  noble 
form.  His  step  had  lost  its  elasticity,  and  his  eye  its 
wonted  luster.  He  was  deeply  moved  as  he  returned  the 
cordial  embrace  with  which  Eoberto  welcomed  him. 

"  At  last  you  come,  my  worthy  friend.  How  is  the  Shyri 
Toa,  and  when  shall  I  see  her?" 

"  Your  Grace  shall  see  her  after  the  victory,  if  we  are 
still  to  hope  for  victory.  She  has  gone  to  Tambillo  to  de 
liver  the  Roj'al  Commander  into  the  hands  of  your  Grace." 

"  Oh,  Prince  Cundurazu  !  could  she  really  do  that  V  ' 

"  She  can  !  But  hold  !  No  human  ear  must  hear  what 
I  shall  say  to  you  now.  This  has  been  a  time  of  base  be 
trayals,  and  1  trust  no  one  but  you.  The  lion  s  strength 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  307 

is  powerless  against  the  serpent's  sting.  That  young  man 
might  hear  us." 

"  He  is  my  aid,  and  fast  asleep." 

"  No  matter  !  Let  us  step  on  the  balcony,  and  close  the 
door  behind  us.  Now  we  are  safe.  The  ear  that  hears  not 
keeps  the  mouth  closed.  Now  mark  !  Arana  is  at  Tam- 
billo.  His  quarters  are  ut  an  hacienda,  at  the  foot  of  a- 
wild  mountain.  His  men  are  scattered  through  and  around 
the  village.  He  has  guarded  the  roads  in  every  direction, 
but  he  has  not  dreamed  that  the  mountain  wilderness  above 
him  might  be  fraught  with  danger.  He  is  lying  in  wait 
for  the  ounces  and  panthers  ;  but  he  has  not  thought  of  the 
condors  overhead.  There  is  a  large  cave  in  the  recesses  of 
the  mountain  at  a  short  distance  from  the  hacien/ia,  acces 
sible  by  paths  and  passes  known  onty  to  us.  The  Shyri 
Toa  will  hide  in  that  cave  to-night  two  hundred  of  the  most 
resolute  Indians  of  Chillogallo  and  Tarubillo.  You  must 
join  her  there  with  fift}'  picked  men  after  midnight,  when 
the  foreigners  will  have  surrendered  themselves  to  sleep 
and  security.  We  shall  steal  into  the  hacienda,  kill  the 
sentinels,  seize  Arana,  and  carry  him  away  with  us.  In 
the  meantime,  your  Grace  will  dash  down  from  the  moun 
tain  with  your  fifty  men,  who  will  seem  a  host  to  the  panic- 
stricken,  and  scatter  them  in  every  direction.  Then,  re 
turning  to  the  mountain,  your  Grace  will  prevent  the  for 
eigners  from  pursuing  us,  and  from  rescuing  their  com 
mander.  They  can  not  follow  us  into  the  mountains.  We 
shall  bring  Arana  as  a  prisoner  to  Quito.  He  shalLremain 
in  our  custody — in  yours  and  mine — and  the  day  afterward 
your  Grece  will  be  able  to  strike  a  decisive  blow  at  his  de 
moralized  and  headless  army." 

"  May  heaven  reward  you  for  this  glorious  plan  !"  said 
Sanchez,  seizing  the  old  man  by  both  hands.  "It  will,  it 
must  succeed." 

"  If  your  Grace  will  keep  it  secret — secret  as  the  grave. 


308  THE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

Do  not  breathe  it  to  your  most  trusted  friend.  Pick  your 
meji  and  take  them  with  you,  but  let  them  know  nothing.'' 

"  And  when  would  J  have  to  march  ?" 

"  It  will  be  dark  at  seven.  Send  one-half  of  your  men 
ahead.  Let  them  leave  the  city  quietly  and  unobserved. 
Uma  will  guide  them.  An  hour  later  you  may  follow  with 
the  other  half.  I  shall  show  you  the  way.  It  will  be  a 
rough  and  difficult  road  for  your  men,  but  it  will  lead  to 
victory  and  salvation.  We  shall  reach  the  rallying  place 
at  one  o'clock.  If  we  succeed,  you  will  be  King  of  Quito, 
and  the  ShjTri  Toa  will  be  your  Queen." 

"  Could  she  love  me  ;  could  she  really  be  mine,  Prince 
Cundurazu?" 

"  She  will  belong  to  the  liberator  and  protector  of  our 
race ;  and  you,  Senor  Eoberto,  shall  be  the  man." 

This  was  a  bright  and  dazzling  vision.  The  young  man's 
heart  filled  with  all  the  happiness  of  glorious  hope.  His 
bosom  swelled,  his  eyes  dilated,  his  pulse  beat  faster. 
Glory,  power,  a  throne,  love,  riches,  momentarily  arose  be 
fore  him  in  the  distance,  where,  until  lately,  his  mind's  eye 
had  beheld  but  the  dreadful  outlines  of  a  scaffold.  It  was 
the  last  and  brightest  vision  of  his  life's  short  dream,  and 
the  cruel  awakening  was  near. 

"  There  is  but  one  difficulty,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  I 
fear  to  leave  the  city.  Treason  lurks  in  every  corner,  and 
the  traitors  are  kept  down  by  the  dread  only  with  which  I 
have  filled  them.  If  I  go,  there  is  danger  of  a  reaction. 
The  Royalists  are  incessantly  tampering  with  my  men.  If, 
owing  to  my  absence,  I  must  relhx  my  present  unceasing 
watchfulness,  they  might  rise  against  us  and  overthrow  the 
Cabildo." 

'•Tour  absence  can  be  kept  a  secret  for  one  night.  To 
morrow  morning  our  Indian  chasquis  will  bring  the  glori 
ous  news  to  Quito  that  your  Grace  has  captured  the  Eo}-al 
Commander.  The  news  of  such  a  success  will  forever 


BOOK    IV.       THE    REACTION.  309 

baffle  the  wiles  of  the  traitors,  and  a  few  hours  later  your 
Grace  will  return  in  triumph  with  your  prisoner." 

"  You  are  right,  Prince  Cundurazu.  It  is  my  last,  my 
best,  and  perhaps  my  only  chance.  I  am  in  the  hands  of 
God,  and  His  will  be  done.  I  have  much  to  do  during  the 
day  ;  but,  thank  God,  Arana  gives  us  breathing  time.  He 
might  have  crushed  me  if  he  had  moved  on  me  yesterday. 
To-morrow  I  shall  be  in  good  condition,  if  he  lets  me  alone 
to-day." 

"  He  will,  your  Grace.  From  what  our  spies  have 
learned,  there  is  no  danger  of  a  forward  movement  for 
several  days." 

"  Then  we  may  hope  for  the  best.  I  shall  send  the  men 
whom  Uma  is  to  guide  to  San  Diego  at  seven  o'clock. 
Between  half-past  eight  and  nine  o'clock  1  shall  meet  you 
with  my  men  at  Sari  Roquc.  Will  that  do  ?" 

"  It  will.'*1 

"  Then  God.be  with  you,  my  dearest  friend." 

"  May  the  Great  Sun  protect  your  Grace.  But  hold  ! 
This  ring  the  Shyri  Toa  sends  to  the  great  Virococha,  as  a 
token  of  her  friendship  and  alliance.  She  hopes  to  greet 
the  wearer  to-night." 

"  To-night  I  shall  throw  myself  at  the  feet  of  Her 
Majesty." 

Thus  the  interview  terminated.  In  the  meantime,  the 
house  was  astir  with  detachment-commanders,  members  of 
the  Cabildo,  and  others,  who  had  come  to  receive  orders,  or 
consult  with  the  young  chief.  The  court-yard  below 
resounded  with  the  tramp  of  horses,  and  the  stairs  and  cor 
ridors  with  the  clanking  of  spurs,  swords,  and  arquebuses. 
Sanchez  dispatched  his  visitors  with  the  most  obliging  po 
liteness,  and  yet  cutting  them  short  and  going  to  the  very 
core  of  each  man's  business  with  the  utmost  rapidity.  His 
breakfast  had  been  brought,  superintended  by  his  mother, 
and  he  partook  of  it  while  listening  to  reports  or  giving 
orders. 


1310  THE   SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

"The  two  companies  from  Otnbalo  arc  reported  doubt 
ful,"  said  old  Seiior  Olrnos.  "  Thus  far,  the}*  seemed  to  bo 
well  disposed,  but  during  the  last  few  hours  they  have 
given  cause  for  suspicion." 

"  That  must  be  looked  into,"  answered  Roberto.  "  Keep 
them  at  the  barracks.  Do  not  put  them  in  charge  of  an 
important  position,  until  we  are  sure  of  their  loyalty.  Dis 
solve  them,  if  necessary.  Where  are  they  now?" 

"  I  believe  that  they  were  to  be  sent  to  the  bridge  of 
Machangara  to-day." 

14  That  must  not  be  done.  You  must  have  this  order 
countermanded,  Seiior  Olmos.  Let  one  company  of  the 
Pichinchas  and  one  of  the  Ambatos  be  sent  to  the  bridge 
to-night.  You  will  not  neglect  this,  my  fatherly  friend?" 

"Most  surely  not!" 

"And  the  Ministers?" 

"Are  still  in  the  sanctuary,  while  the  populace  are 
guarding  all  the  entrances  to  the  church." 

And  now  the  business  of  his  visitors  having  been  dis 
patched,  Sanchez  descended  into  the  court-yard  to  mount 
his  horse,  in  order  to  make  a  lour  of  inspection.  His  foot 
was  in  the  stirrup  when  a  hand  touched  his  arm.  Turn 
ing  around  he  beheld  Dona  Mariquita,  the  mother  of 
Mercedes. 

"  God  be  with  you.  Dofia  Mariquita,"  he  said,  giving  her 
the  customary  embrace.  "I  hope  you  arc  well.  And  how 
is  Merceditas?" 

"How  can  you  ask,  Scuor  Don  Roberto?  The  poor 
child  is  dy ing  to  see  your  Grace,  and  in  despair  at  your 
indifference." 

"  Let  her  take  heart,  Dofia  Mariquita,"  answered  Roberto, 
turning  to  mount;  "in  a  few  days  we  shall  see  her,  if  we 
live.  Give  her  my  love  in  the  meantime." 

"But,  Sefior,  will  you  not  let  me  speak  to  you  an  in 
stant?" 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  311 

"Every  moment  is  precious,  Dofia  Mariquita.  You  can 
not  imagine  in  what  hurry  I  am." 

"  But  only  one  second,  for  the  love  of  God,  and  not  before 
nil  these  Cnballeros." 

"Well,  well,  we  must  be  obliging  to  ladies!"  he  said, 
leading  her  to  one  of  the  servants'  room  in  the  court.  "I 
suppose  you  are  in  need  of  money,  Dona  Mariquita.  I 
should  have  been  more  thoughtful  of  your  needs  yester- 
day." 

"  Money.  Don  Hoberto,  money !"  exclaimed  the  old 
woman,  with  well-feigned  indignation.  "As  poor  and 
helpless  us  I  am,  I  should  say,  keep  your  money,  if  you 
were  to  send  me  back  without  a  crumb  of  comfort  to  that 
poor  and  forlorn  creature,  who  has  been  sitting  up  and 
waiting  for  you  ever  since  your  arrival  in  the  city.  Not  a 
wink  did  she  sleep  during  the  last  long  night,  not  an  in 
stant  did  her  wasting  form  press  her  bed.  There  she  was, 
ever  restless,  ever  moving  about,  now  listening  at  the  win 
dow,  now  rusliing  down  to  the  door,  imagining  that  she 
had  heard  your  step.  '  Surely  he  will  come,  Mother,'  she 
said.  '  I  know  he  will  come  to  see  his  child,  at  least,  if  he 
does  not  care  for  its  mother.'  " 

"  The  Virgin  bless  my  poor  Merceditas,  but  I  can  not 
spare  a  moment  now.  This  is  a  struggle  for  life.  I  fight 
with  the  noose  around  my  neck,  Doiia  Mariquita,  and  I 
must  strain  every  nerve  to  save  those  that  are  intrusted  to 
my  charge.  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  come  to 
your  house." 

"But  can  you  not  come  just  for  a  minute  this  evening, 
when  your  most  pressing  business  is  dispatched.  They 
say  you  are  always  in  the  saddle,  riding  from  place  to 
place,  and  inspecting  every  post  and  position.  They  have 
been  fortifying  the  bridge  near  our  house.  Will  you  not 
come  to  inspect  it,  and  then  just  alight  for  a  moment  to 
save  the  life  of  that  grief-worn  woman,  the  mother  of  your 
child?" 


312  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"  The  Bridge  of  Machangara !  You  arc  right.  Yes, 
Doiia  Mariquita,  1  shall  inspect  the  bridge  during  the 
course  of  the  day.  And  now  let  me  go  !" 

"But  do  not  kill  the  poor  child  by  keeping  her  in  this 
dreadful  uncertainty.  She  will  be  restless  and  trembling 
all  day.  Every  horse  will  startle,  every  noise  will  frighten 
her.  Fix  an  hour  when  you  can  come,  and  if  possible  let 
it  be  in  the  evening,  for  the  poor  girl  suffers  most  during 
the  night." 

"Let  us  see,"  said  Sanchez,  musing,  "seven,  eight,  nine. 
Well,  tell  her  I  shall  be  with  her  shortly  before  eight 
o'clock,  but  only  for  a  few  minutes.  And  now  I  must  be 
gone." 

The  next  moment  he  was  on  his  horse,  and  dashed  out 
of  the  doorway,  followed  by  his  aids  and  guards.  And 
Dona  Mariquita  looked  after  him.  It  was  a  long,  stony 
look,  and  even  after  he  was  out  of  her  sight,  she  still  stood 
gazing  at  the  doorway  through  which  he  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  BRIDGE  OF  MACHANGARA. 

It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  Sanchez, 
followed  by  about  thirty  mounted  men,  rode  to  the  bridge 
of  Machangara. 

"  Quien  vive?"  shouted  the  first  picket  he  met,  at  a  dis 
tance  of  about  two  squares  from  the  bridge. 

"El  Cabildol" 

"Who  comes?" 

"  The  Commander-in-Chief  1 " 

The  sentinel  saluted. 

"What  company  dost  thou  belong  to,  comrade?"  asked 
Sanchez,  checking  his  horse. 


BOOK   IV.      THE    REACTION.  313 

"  First  Otabalo,  my  General !  " 

"And  when  were  you  sent  here?" 

"  This  afternoon  !  " 

"Strange!"  said  Eoberto  to  young  Olmos,  riding  on  at 
a  slow  pace,  and  halting  again  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  the 
sentinel's  hearing.  "  Very  strange  !  could  your  father  have 
forgotten  to  countermand  the  order  to  send  this  company 
to  the  bridge  ?  It  was  at  his  own  suggestion  that  I  de 
cided  not  to  send  them  here.  There  are  doubts  as  to  their 
loyalty,  and  this  post  is  too  important  to  be  intrusted  to 
any  but  our  most  reliable  men." 

"  My  father  did  not  forget  it,  General.  He  spoke  of  it 
several  times  to-day,  and  told  me  that  he  had  stationed 
the  Third  Pichincha  and  the  First  Ambato  at  the  bridge. 
I  do  not  understand  how  the  Otabalos  happened  to  come 
here." 

"  This  is  a  riddle  which  stands  in  need  of  immediate  solu 
tion.  Gallop  back  to  the  Cabildo,  Olmos,  a_nd  inform  your 
worthy  father  of  this  misunderstanding.  Let  him  sift  the 
matter,  and  ascertain  who  is  responsible  ;  and  let  the  guilty 
parties  be  arrested,  whoever  they  may  be.  Success,  I  as 
sure  you,  lies  within  our  grasp,  Olmos,  and  wo  must  not 
let  treachery  snatch  it  from  us.  Hurry  on,  now,  and  bring 
back  a  most  accurate  report.  In  the  meantime,  you,  Senor 
Rodriguez,  hasten  to  the  barracks  and  bring  the  two  com 
panies  that  were  intended  to  be  here.  Bring  any  available 
company;  but  let  not  a  minute  be  lost.  I  do  not  like  this 
mistake,  and  shall  stay  here  myself  until  it  is  rectified. 
Hurry!" 

These  words  had  been  spoken  in  an  undertone,  so  as  not 
to  be  overheard  b}'  Sanchez'  own  guard.  Olmos  and  Rod 
riguez  dashed  back  to  the  city,  and  Sanchez  rode  on  to  the 
bridge,  where  he  was  received  with  demonstrations  of  af 
fection  and  enthusiasm  which  somewhat  reassured  him. 
He  exchanged  a  few  friendly  words  with  the  men,  and 
then,  followed  by  his  own  troop,  rode  back  toward  the 


314  THE    SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

city,  halting  at  the  house  of  Dona  Mariquita.  Here  he  dis 
mounted,  and  turning  to  his  men,  he  said:  "Have  the 
kindness  to  hold  my  horse,  Sefior  Davila.  I  shall  bo  with 
you  again  in  a  few  minutes.  Good  evening,  Dofia  Mari 
quita" — the  woman  had  appeared  in  the  door  of  her  iienda 
— "  vrili  you  be  good  enongh  to  send  out  some  refreshments 
to  these  gentlemen,  while  I  go  in  to  see  Merceditas."  With 
these  words  he  entered  the  house,  and  walked  up  stairs  to 
the  familiar  room  of  Mercedes. 

He  had  hardly  dismounted,  Avhen  three  or  four  men  on 
horseback,  coming  from  the  bridge,  rode  up  to  the  men  of 
Sanchez,  who  were  forming  different  groups,  and  engaged 
them  in  a  whispered  conversation.  At  the  same  time  a 
movement  became  discernible  at  the  bridge  among  the 
Otabalo  soldiers,  some  of  whom  rapidly  mounted  their 
horses,  while  others  moved  toward  the  front  and  rear  of 
Mariquita's  house.  In  a  few  minutes  the  post  at  the 
bridge  was  broken  up  and  abandoned.  Not  the  bridge,  but 
the  house,  seemed  to  be  guarded.  At  the  same  time  an 
altercation  had  arisen  between  the  men  of  Sanchez  and  the 
strangers  that  had  come  to  them  from  the  bridge.  Swords 
were  drawn,  the  cry  "traitor  "  resounded,  and  a  scuffle  be 
gan,  while  a  loud,  piercing  shriek  was  heard  from  the  in 
terior  of  the  house.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  female.  An  in 
stant  afterward,  the  voice  of  Sanchez  was  heard,  but  only 
for  a  moment.  He  shouted  :  "  Davila  !  Help!  Help!" 
Then  all  was  silence  within,  while  the  tumult  increased 
outside.  The  men  of  Sanchez  were  now  surrounded  by  the 
Otabalos,  some  of  whom  attempted  to  pull  the  Cabildo  men 
from  their  horses,  while  others  sought  to  hold  the  hoi-sea, 
and  to  reason  with  the  riders.  The  Sanchez  men  seemed 
undecided  ;  taken  by  surprise,  and  without  a  leader  they 
were  helpless  against  their  well-prepared  assailants,  who 
outnumbered  them,  four  to  one.  A  few  stray  shots  were 
fired  increasing  the  confusion.  One  or  two  of  the  Sanchez 
men  succeeded  in  cutting  their  way  out  and  breaking  away, 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  315 

yelling:  "Treason!  Treason!  To  arms!  To  arms!"  Others 
were  unhorsed  and  dispatched  by  their  assailants,  while 
still  others  seemed  to  yield  to  the  combined  arguments  of 
persuasion  and. force,  and  allowed  themselves  to  be  swept 
along  by  the  current  which  now  had  set  in  toward  the 
bridge.  About  this  time,  a  dozen  horsemen  emerged  from 
the  rear  part  of  the  house,  dragging  along  a  prisoner  with 
whom  they  dashed  over  the  bridge,  followed  by  their  ac 
complices,  the  Otabalo  company,  and  by  some  of  the  men 
of  Sanchez,  who  had  changed  sides  in  less  than  three  min 
utes,  to  save  th6ir  lives  and  to  share  the  fruits  of  this  act  of 
treachery. 

And  now  drums  were  beating  in  the  direction  of  the  city, 
and  shortly  afterward  the  alarm-bells  were  ringing,  and 
two  companies,  headed  by  Olmos  and  Rodriguez  came 
rushing  breathlessly  to  the  fatal  spot.  It  was  too  late  to 
save  their  commander,  who  was  whirling  away  at  this  very 
moment,  tied  to  a  horse,  toward  the  camp  of  Arana. 

But  might  they  not  have  saved  him  if  they  had  dashed 
after  his  captors  without  delay  ?  Perhaps!  But  the  mas 
ter-spirit  was  gone,  and  the  tottering  edifice  which  he  alone 
had  supported,  tumbled  down  with  a  sudden,  annihilating 
crash.  The  news  of  the  kidnaping  of  Sanchez,  struck 
terror  into  the  ranks  of  the  Cabildo-men.  The  blow  was 
so  sudden  that  it  deprived  them  of  all  presence  of  mind  ; 
and  demoralization,  amazement,  uncertainty,  culminating 
in  a  panic,  were  its  immediate  effects.  In  vain  the  two 
Olmos  and  others  attempted  to  stem  the  tide  of  discourage 
ment  and  defeat.  A  blank  feeling  of  utter  hopelessness 
had  seized  the  Revolutionary  party.  The  cry  "  Viva  el 
Hey,"  silenced  for  so  long,  was  heard  again  j  first  timidly, 
but  soon  carried  from  mouth  to  mouth,  until  it  startled  the 
terrified  Councilors  of  the  Cabildo  in  their  hall,  and  sent 
tidings  of  gladness  and  deliverance  to  the  hearts  of  the 
Ministers  in  their  sanctuary. 

And  now  the  downfall  of  the  Revolutionary  cause  was 


316  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

precipitated  like  the  rout  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro  at  Xapixa- 
guano,  by  a  mad  rush  of  desertions  to  the  Boyalist  side. 
Hundreds  of  leading  rebels  vied  with  each  other  to  mani 
fest  their  sudden  conversion  to  loyalty  by  some  signal  act 
of  meanness  in  the  service  of  the  King  against  whom  they 
had  rebelled.  Each  one  wanted  to  be  the  first  to  make 
atonement  for  his  past  conduct.  The  fiercest  rebels  of 
yesterday,  had  suddenly  become  the  loudest  in  advocating 
submission,  and  endeavoring  to  prove  the  utter  hopeless 
ness  of  further  resistance,  or  in  preparing  to  deliver  their 
comrades  to  the  hangman,  in  order  to  extrfcate  their  own 
necks.  The  Eoyalists,  who  had  been  lurking  in  places  of 
concealment,  or  prowling  around  in  disguises,  now  came 
forward  in  order  to  swell  the  tide  of  reaction.  Manuel 
Paredes,  the  engineer  of  the  plot  by  which  poor  Sanchez 
had  been  ensnared,  and  Juan  de  Londoiio  entered  the  Ca- 
bildo  at  the  head  of  an  armed  force  of  .Royalists,  and  spoke 
in  a  voice  half  reasoning  and  half  threatening:  "  Gentle 
men  !  We  are  betrayed  !  There  is  no  use  of  further  re 
sistance.  Our  only  salvation  lies  in  making  our  peace  with 
the  Auditors,  and  throwing  ourselves  on  their  mercy. 
Let  us,  at  once,  proceed  to  the  'Church  of  San  Francisco, 
and  lead  them  hence  to  the  Palace."  The  trembling  Coun 
cilors  had  no  alternative  but  to  follow  this  advice.  The 
same  men  that,  a  few  months  ago,  had  seized  the  roins 
of  government,  now  headed  the  procession  which,  followed 
by  a  contrite  multitude,  repaired  to  the  sanctuary,  humbly 
to  beseech  the  deposed  Ministers  to  resume  their  power, 
and  to  deal  gently  with  those  who  had  offended  against 
them.  In  triumph,  the  President  of  the  Audience,  with 
his  three  colleagues — the  fourth  had  flt-d  to  Arana's  camp 
with  Guzman  Ponce  de  Leon — were  escorted  back  to  the 
Palace  that  very  night,  through  streets  illuminated  and 
festooned,  as  if  the  city  were  rejoicing  over  a  great  victory. 
The  new  government  smiled  kindly  on  its  newly-won  friends 
that  night.  No  arrests  were  made.  The  President  did  not 


BOOK    IV.      THE   REACTION.  317 

feel  himself  secure  with  Arana's  forces  eight  leagues  away 
from  the  Capital.  But  one  ominous  order  he  gave  in  se 
cret,  while  smilingly  shaking  hands  with  his  late  enemies 
— it  was  an  order  to  guard  all  the  outlets  of  the  city,  and 
to  allow  no  one  to  depart  from  it  without  a  permit  signed 
by  the  Audience  or  the  President.  At  the  same  time,  a 
messenger  was  dispatched  to  the  Royal  Commander  at 
Tambillo,  to  announce  to  him  that  Quito  was  a  loyal  city 
once  more,  and  that  the  King's  Government  had  been  re 
stored.  The  Commander  was  notified  that  a  festive  recep 
tion  awaited  him,  whenever  it  should  be  his  pleasure  to 
celebrate  his  triumphal  entrance. 

Such  a  complete  and  fatal  change  was  wrought  by  one 
man's  dismounting  from  his  horse  to  enter  an  humble 
dwelling  along  the  roadside.  Had  Sanchez  kept  away  from 
that  fatal  door,  had  he  dashed  back  to  his  headquarters 
with  Ol-mos  and  Eodrignez  to  bring  the  faithful  companies 
with  which  to  garrison  the  bridge,  or  had  he  only  awaited 
their  arrival  without  dismounting,  the  Royal  Commissioner 
would  have  been  his  prisoner  before  the  dawn  of  another 
day.  The  traitors  at  the  bridge  would  not  have  dared  to 
assail  the  dreaded  captain  at  the  head  of  bis  body 
guard,  with  re-enforcements  in  easy  call.  But  such  is  the 
lottery  of  life.  Your  fingers  had  touched  the  great  prize 
as  they  dived  into  the  urn,  but  it  slipped  away  as  you 
closed  them  on  the  next  number,  which  brought  the  deadly 
failure. 

Pinioned  and  gagged,  Roberto  Sanchez  had  been  carried 
out  of  the  room  of  his  child's  mother.  The  blow  was  so 
sudden  and  so  terrible  that  it  stunned,  tut  did  not  fell, 
Mercedes.  She  was  like  one  awaking  from  a  dream,  un 
able  at  once  to  comprehend  the  situation.  She  beard 
nothing  but  one  terrible  sentence,  which  incessantly  rang 
in  her  ears:  "Ah,  thou  miserable  viper,  that  I  have 
warmed  in  my  bosom,  it  is  thou  who  hast  sold  me  !"  And 
the  look  he  had  given  her!  Oh,  the  terrible  look!  Sbe 


318  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDE3. 

covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  but  still  she  saw  that 
look.  She  buried  her  head  in  her  shawl,  but  still  that  look 
was  before  her.  It  was  like  the  dying  look  of  Abel,  that 
sank  forever  into  the  despairing  soul  of  Cain.  Oh,  that 
look  !  It  would  drive  her  mad. 

And  now  her  mother  entered  the  room. 

"No,  Mother!"  screamed  the  girl.  "I  am  not  the  viper 
that  betrayed  him.  Mother!  If  he  was  betrayed,  if  this 
was  a  snare  and  a  trap,  may  the  curse  of  God  crush  those 
who  laid  it.  Ma}'  the  guilty  be  forever  doomed  to  the  tor 
ments  of  perdition,  no  matter  who  it  was,  no  matter  who — 
and  if  it  was  you.  If  you  did  this,  Mother,  or  knew  of 
it,  I  cease  to  be  your  child,  and  curse  you,  yes,  curse 
you,  forevermore.  May  every  maravedi  of  the  blood- 
money  for  which  you  sold  him,  turn  into  burning  fire  or 
poisonous  toads,  as  you  hold  it  in  }*our  accursed  hand. 
May  you  die  without  shrift  and  sacrament,  surrounded  and 
scoffed  by  heretics  and 'Moors.  For  every  Saint  that  you 
invoke,  a  Devil  shall  come  to  your  side.  May  the  planets 
strike  you,  may  witchcraft  blast  you.  If  you  did  it,  Mother, 
I  wish  you  leprosy  and  plague  so  that  you  may  live  an 
outcast,  begging  at  church-doors,  and  be  driven,  like  a 
Jewess  or  a  Lutheran,  from  the  charities  of  the  Bishop's 
Palace.  STou  shall  have  no  rest  or  sleep,  and  demons  shall 
bar  your  entrance  into  church  or  chapel.  I  renounce  you. 
1  leave  your  house  this  very  hour,  this  very  minute." 

And  snatching  up  her  child,  with  disheveled  hair  and 
flying  garments,  the  unfortunate  girl  rushed  out  into  night 
and  darkness. 

"  For  the  Virgin's  sake  I"  exclaimed  her  mother.  "  Eun 
after  her,  Don  Tomas,  and  help  me  to  bring  her  back."  — 

The  girl  rushed  away  in  the  direction  of  the  bridge;  but 
her  paroxysm  was  of  short  duration.  She  had  advanced 
hardly  twenty  paces  when  she  sank  on  her  knees,  and 
bending  over  her  child,  broke  into  convulsive  sobs  and  a 
flood  of  tears.  In  this  attitude  she  was  overtaken  by  her 


BOOK    IV.      THE    REACTION.  319 

mother  and  Don  Tomas,  the  Mayordomo  of  Manuel  Pared  es. 
The  storm  had  spent  its  force,  and  the  terrible  strain  was 
•  followed  by  a  prostrating  reaction.  Meek,  like  a  lamb,  she 
allowed  herself  to  be  led  back  to  the  house.  Meek  like  a 
lamb  she  listened  to  Mariquita's  burning  protestations  of 
innocence  an'd  entire  ignorance  of  the  plot  against  Sanchez. 
And  the  poor  girl  finally  believed  her,  and  begged  her 
pardon  for  the  dreadful  things  she  had  uttered  in  the  frenzy 
of  despair.  What  should  she  do?  The  oak  will  stand  or 
break ;  but  the  ivy  must  cling  to  something,  and  if  it  be  a 
rotten  beam  of  the  wall  that  has  just  fallen.  Poor  Mer- 
ccditas !  Cling  to  somebody  she  must.  She  can  not  stand 
alone  in  the  world.  And" thus  dissolved  in  tears,  she  hangs 
around  the  neck  of  that  mercenary  mother,  who  has  just 
stolen  from  her  daughter  what  she  loved  best  in  the  world. 
And  this  time  Dona  Mariqtiita  does  not  ask  her  as  she  did 
a  few  months  ago :  "  Why  do  you  weep,  Merceditas  ?" 


BOOK  V. 
THE  VALUE  OF  LIFE. 

Que  horcas  eran  dellos  ocupados, 
Que  jaulas  de  cabezas  bastecidas, 
Que  de  soberbias  casas  abatidas 
Y  por  su  eorupcion  de  sal  sembradas, 
Que  prosperas  haciendas  confiscadas, 
Que  plaga  de  las  honras,  y  las  vidas, 
Castigo  merecido  y  justa  pena 
Del  que  contra  su  Rey  se  desenfrena. 

PEDRO  DE  ONA,  Arauco  Domado, 

Canto  XYI,  p.  280. 


BOOK  V. 

THE  V^LLTJE  OF  LIFE. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

ARANA. 

ORDER  reigned  at  Quito.  Arana  had  effected  his  tri 
umphal  entrance.  He  had  been  welcomed  with  the  ring 
ing  of  bells  and  firing  of  cannon.  The  Audience  and  the 
Cabildo  had  gone  forth  to  receive  him,  and  to  escort  him 
to  the  city.  A  solemn  Te  Deum  had  been  sung  at  the 
Cathedral,  and  those  lately  in  rebellion  had  crouched  be 
fore,  and  fawned  upon,  their  new  master.  The  Royal  Com 
missioner  had  established  his  head-quarters  at  the  house 
of  the  Marquis  of  Solando,  whose  guest  he  was.  The 
Marquis  and  Dolores,  being  in  deep  mourning,  could  give 
no  public  entertainments,  as  they  would  have  done  under 
more  auspicious  circumstances ;  but  they  had  yielded  the 
largest  and  best  part  of  the  house  to  their  honored  guest, 
arid  overwhelmed  him  with  attentions.  Dolores,  as  we  can 
easily  understand,  had  entirely  captivated  the  old  gentle 
man,  who  had  not  seen  her  equal  in  America. 

What  Arana's  policy  would  be,  had  not  yet  been  devel 
oped.  As  at  Guayaquil,  he  had  smiled  upon  everybody. 
Two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  his  arrival,  and  but  one  sen 
tence  of  death  had  been  pronounced,  and  that  was  on 
Eoberto  Sanchez,  the  arch-rebel  and  traitor,  the  murderer 
of  so  many  of  the  King's  most  loyal  servants.  Eoberto 
had  been  sentenced  to  be  dragged  to  the  place- of  execution 
— the  Plaza  of  Santa  Clara — in  a  hurdle,  to  have  his  hands 

(323) 


324  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

cut  off  and  his  eyes  put  out  by  the  hangman,  and  then  to 
suffer  the  extreme  penalty  by  garroting.  The  estates  of  the 
Sanchez  family  were  to  be  confiscated,  their  family-mansion 
was  to  be  leveled  to  the  ground,  salt  and  ashes  were  to  be 
strewn  on  the  spot  where  it  had  stood,  and  a  tablet  was  to 
be  put  up  on  the  premises,  with  the  inscription,  that  this 
was  the  place  where  the  traitors,  Sanchez,  once  lived,  who 
had  met  with  the  doom  which  all  traitors  deserved.  Young 
Sanchez  had  been  brought  back  to  Quito  from  Tambillo, 
at  which  place  he  had  been  delivered  into  the  Commission 
er's  hands.  He  was  now  at  the  barracks,  and — such  is  the 
fate  of  war — placed  in  charge  of  his  own  former  prisoners, 
Juan  del  Puente  and  Ildefbnso  Coronel. 

Nobody  was  surprised  at  his  sentence.  Nobody  had  ex 
pected  it  otherwise.  The  real  cause  of  surprise  was  the  ap 
parent  leniency  of  the  .Royal  Commander.  Few  arrests 
had  been  made.  The  President  of  the  Royal  Audience  had 
been  deposed,  and  the  senior  Auditor  Don  Estevan  ilai-a- 
non,  had  been  charged  with  taking  the  residencia  of  his 
late  superior,  a  process  well-known  to  Spanish  law,  and 
consisting  in  an  account  of  his  administration,  which  the 
deposed  officer  was  required  to  give  to  the  officer  appointed 
to  make  the  investigation.  This  measure  against  the 
worthless  President  had  filled  the  popular  party  with  a 
vague  hope  that  the  Royal  Commissioner  might,  after  all, 
be  disposed  to  look  upon  their  past  offenses  with  a  forgiv 
ing  eye.  Only  two  changes  had  thus  far  been  made  in  the 
personale  of  the  Municipal  Government.  Juan  de  Londono 
and  Guzman  Ponce  de  Leon  had  been  appointed  Alcaldes 
in  the  places  of  Olmos  and  Garcia.  This  change,  it  must 
be  admitted,  was  a  violent  one,  as  the  Alcaldes  had  alwtvvs 
been  elected  by  the  Cabildo,  and  not  appointed  by  the 
King's  representatives;  but  as  these  appointments  had 
been  designated  as  provisional,  they  had  not  given  alarm 
or  caused  suspicion.  Not  to  give  alarm  was  the  very  ob 
ject  and  purpose  of  Arana's  present  policy.  Those  of  his 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  325 

intended  victims  who  were  at  Quito,  were  within  his  grasp. 
They  could  not  escape  from  him.  They  were  his  prisoners, 
even  if  he  allowed  them  to  go  about.  The  entrances  of  the 
city  were  well  guarded,  and  nobody  was  permitted  to  leave 
it  under  penalty  of  death,  without  a  pass  from  the  Com 
mander.  But  there  were  rebels  outside  of  the  city,  landed 
proprietors  and  gentlemen  of  note,  who  had  compromised 
themselves  during  the  .Revolution.  It  would  not  be  so  easy 
to  capture  these,  if  they  betook  themselves  to  the  moun 
tains.  Yet  Arana  wanted  them  in  his  net.  He  wanted 
them  all.  Not  one  should  slip  away  from  him.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  to  allay  their  apprehensions  and  to  in 
duce  them  to  come  to  the  Capital.  The  way  in  which  Alba 
had  captured  Egmont  and  Home  was  the  model  after 
which  Arana  fashioned  his  policy.  No  second  Orange 
should  escape  him,  if  he  could  help  it.  The  moment  he 
had  his  victims  safe  in  his  net,  it  would  be  easy  to  abandon 
the  pi-etense  of  leniency,  and  resort  to  a  policy  of  retribu 
tive  severity. 

It  was  forenoon.  A  large  crowd  of  people  had  assembled 
around  the  house  of  the  Marquis  of  Solando,  forming 
groups  on  the  sidewalks  or  on  the  Plaza  in  front  of  the 
building.  In  an  age  when  newspapers  were  unknown, 
those  who  thirsted  for  news  had  no  means  of  gratifying 
their  curiosity  other  than  personal  exertion,  to  ascertain 
what  they  desired  to  know.  The  populace  of  Quito  always 
lazy,  gossipy  and  excitable,  now  hung  around  the  head 
quarters  of  the  Eoyal  Commissioner,  as  during  the  .Revolu 
tion,  they  had  hovered  around  the  building  of  the  Munici 
pality,  to  pick  up,  and  greedily  to  swallow,  the  news  and 
rumors  of  the  day. 

"Have  they  caught  Juan  Castro?"  asked  a  wiry  half- 
breed,  who  stood  in  a  group  of  butchers  and  shopmen  from 
the  Carniceria,  one  of  the  most  unruly  districts  of  ancient 
and  modern  Quito. 

"  Indeed  they  have  not  1  "  answered  one  of  the  group. 


326  THE    SECRET   OP    THE    ANDES. 

"If  he  has  succeeded  in  taking  himself  out  of  the  city,  they 
will  never  catch  him.  He  will  be  shrewd  enough  to  stay 
in  the  mountains,  until  the  storm  has  blown  over." 

"Ah,  but  if  he  is  still  hidden  in  the  city,  that  reward  will 
fetch  him.  It  is  a  big  amount  of  money.  His  best  friend 
would  sell  him  for  that." 

"  Hush  !     Who  comes  there  ?  " 

It  was  an  elderly  lady,  all  in  black,  followed  by  two 
women  and  a  man  servant. 

"  Oh,  1  know  !  "  said  another.  "  Do  you  see  how  sho 
cries?  It  is  the  mother  of  Sanchez.  She  will  beg  for  the 
life  of  her  son." 

The  men  now  suddenly  became  quiet,  and  intently  stared 
at  the  unfortunate  lad}7  as  she  walked  or  rather  staggered 
through  the  doorway  of  the  Marquis,  so  that  her  women 
had  to  hasten  to  her  support.  Most  of  those  rough  men 
had  instinctively  uncovered  their  heads  in  silent  sympathy 
as  they  opened  a  passage  for  the  Sefiora. 

"  There  comes  another  woman  in  black,  a  young  one." 

"  It  is  the  '  Flower  of  Machangara,'  Mercedes  Castro,  the 
one  that  sold  her  lover,  Roberto  Sanchez,  to  the  King's  men." 

"  What  may  she  want  here?  "  resumed  the  first  speaker. 

Mercedes  had  passed  them  and  entered  the  doorway. 

"  Now  she  raises  her  veil  to  speak  to  that  Caballero." 

"  How  pale  and  conscience-stricken  she  looks.  Perhaps 
she  wants  to  atone  for  her  treachery  by  begging  for  his 
life." 

"Ah!"  shrieked  an  old  woman  who  kept  a  chicha-shop. 
"  The  witch  !  The  viper  !  It  is  right  enough  to  serve  our 
Lord  the  King,  and  this  rebellion  was  all  wrong  ;  but  there 
is  no  excuse  for  that  fair-faced  snake.  No  honest  Christian 
woman  would  sell  her  lover  and  the  father  of  her  child, 
rebel  or  no  rebel.  Her  face  should  be  scorched  with  hen 
bane.  The  conceited  little  snake !  " 

In  the  meantime  the  subject  of  these  remarks  had  ac 
costed  the  Marquis  of  Solando,  who  was  just  about  to  leave 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  327 

the  house,  accompanied  by  some  of  Arana's  officers,  and 
followed  by  a  retinue  of  servants.  Mercedes  had  thrown 
herself  down  before  him,  and  dropping  her  black  shawl 
over  her  shoulders,  disclosed  a  face  so  beautiful  in  its  pale 
agonj^.  that  it  enlisted  the  interest  of  the  Marquis'  Spanish 
companions,  to  whom  this  flower  of  the  Sierra  was  un 
known. 

"  What  dost  thou  wish,  my  good  woman  ?  "  said  the  Mar 
quis. 

"  For  the  sake  of  God,  and  by  all  that  is  sacred  to  your 
Excellency,  I  beseech  your  Excellency  to  let  me  speak  to 
the  Iloyal  Commissioner  !  " 

';And  why  shouldst  thou  wish  to  speak  to  his  Grace,  my 
child?"  inquired  Solando  with  more  kindness  in  his  tone 
than  usual;  but  it  flattered  him  to  patronize  a  beautiful 
young  woman  in  the  presence  of  the  foreign  officers. 

"  May  it  please  your  Excellency !  "  answered  Mercedes 
still  on  her  knees,  "  I  want  to  implore  him  for  mercy — 
mercy  to  one  who  is  to  be  executed  to-morrow." 

"  My  poor  girl !  Thy  errand  will  be  fruitless.  The 
Seuora  Sanchez  is  now  with  his  Grace,  and  she  will  im 
plore  him  in  vain.  His  Grace  is  inclined  to  be  merciful 
where  he  can,  but  it  will  be  impossible  in  the  case  of  that 
desperate  young  man." 

"  Oh,  no  !  No  !  Senor  Marquis.  Do  not  say  it  will  be 
impossible.  Oh,  let  me  see  his  Grace." 

''And  what  wouldst  thou  say  to  the  Commissioner? 
Hast  thou  ever  spoken  to  persons  of  his  quality  and  power?" 

"No,  your  Excellency;  but  God  will  give  me  words  to 
move  his  heart.  I  have  prayed  to  the  Virgin  as  no  woman 
ever  prayed  to  her.  She  will  not  abandon  me  in  this  sol 
emn  hour.  And  if  I  can  not  save  his  life,  his  Grace  will  at 
least  permit  me  to  see  him  before  he  dies."  And  hero  the 
poor  girl  broke  into  wild,  hysteric  sobs. 

"  1  should  think  thou  mightst  get  that  permission  without 
troubling  his  Grace." 


328  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

"  No,  your  Excellency ;  they  have  refused  to  admit  me. 
I  have  besieged  the  doors  of  his  prison.  I  have  implored 
his  guards  on  my  knees  to  let  me  see  him.  It  was  all  in 
vain.  Without  an  order  from  bis  Grace,  they  said,  I  could 
not  be  permitted  to  see  him.  And  see  him  I  must,  your 
Excellency,  and  should  I  pay  for  it  with  my  life." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Marquis.  "  What  say  you,  Caballeros.? 
Shall  we  accede  to  the  request  of  this  young  woman.  I 
fear  his  Grace  has  been  worried  enough  by  applicants,  and 
I  should  like  to  spare  him  the  annoyance." 

"If  your  Excellency  will  permit,"  said  one  of  the  young 
Spanish  officers,  "  I  shall  take  charge  of  this  girl,  and  pro 
cure  her  the  audience  which  she  so  fervently  prays  for.  I 
am  satisfied  that  the  latter  part  of  her  request  will  be 
granted.  Come  Senorita !  " 

The  officer  led  the  way,  and  Mercedes  followed  him  up 
stairs.  The  house  was  built  in  the  most  approved  style  of 
that  period.  An  uncovered  gallery,  overlooking  the  court 
yard  below,  ran  along  one  side  of  the  house.  This  was  a 
sunny  place  in  the  forenoon,  for  which  reason  Pedro  de 
Arana  had  sought  it  out,  because  the  nights  and  mornings  at 
Quito  are  cold,  the  interior  of  the  houses  is  generally  cold, 
and  the  Royal  Commissioner  was  an  old  man,  unaccus 
tomed  to  the  rarified  and  chilling  atmosphere  of  the  Sierra. 
There  he  sat  in  an  easy-chair,  resting  against  the  balus 
trade,  covered  with  a  heavy  cloak,  and  a  poncho  over  his 
knees,  warming  himself  in  the  pleasant  rays  of  the  bright 
sun  of  Quito.  He  was  a  queer-looking  man  of  small  stature, 
heavily  built  and  very  fleshy.  His  iron-gray  hair  was 
short  and  stood  on  end  when  he  doffed  the  black  velvet 
cap  which"  now  covered  his  head.  His  moustache  was 
shorter  than  usual  with  Spanish  noblemen,  and  curled  up 
ward,  bringing  into  high  relief  the  humorous  and  some 
times  even  Mephistophelian  expression  which  played  around 
his  mouth,  If  Don  Quixote  had  been  published  in  those 
days,  there  would  have  been  a  great  deal  in  Arana's  ap- 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE   OP   LIFE.  329 

pearance  which  might  have  reminded  those  who  saw  him, 
of  Sancho  Fanza.  He  seemed  to  be  a  man  of  fifty  although 
in  reality  he  was  older.  He  produced  the  impression  of  a 
cynic,  yet  when  the  occasion  required  it,  he  knew  how  to 
make  a  great  show  of  reverence,  and  could  talk  like  a 
preacher.  He  was  not  a  man  of  learning,  but  of  great 
shrewdness  and  sound  common  sense.  The  proverbial  say 
ings,  in  which  the  Spanish  language  abounds,  recurred  to  him 
almost  continually,  and  gave  force  and  terseness  to  what 
he  said.  He  had  received  his  mental  and  moral  training 
in  camps  and  barracks,  arid  in  the  school  of  the  Albas  and 
such  other  men  as  Philip  II  selected  for  his  service. 
Pedro  de  Araua  seemed  to  be  a  jolly  old  soul,  overflowing 
with  good  nature  and  the  milk  of  human  kindness,  fond  of 
good  cheer  and  comfort,  and  still  fonder  of  a  good  joke  ; 
yet  he  was  not  troubled  with  that  sensibility  which  feels 
the  pain  it  inflicts  upon  others,  or  shrinks  from  inflicting 
it.  The  sufferings  of  others  had  never  disturbed  his  sleep, 
nor  would  it  have  spoiled  his  appetite  for  dinner  to  pro 
nounce  sentence  of  death  on  a  rebel  prisoner. 

Mercedes  did  not  see  the  dreadful  personage  at  once. 
The  officer  led  her  to  a  covered  gallery  running  at  right 
angles  from  the  gallery  on  which  the  old  Commissioner  sat. 
There  her  protector  told  her  to  sit  down  and  to  await  his 
return.  He  would  speak  to  his  Grace  for  her.  A  few 
minutes  elapsed  before  Mercedes  dared  to  look  around.  At 
last  she  looked  up  and  beheld  a  sickening  spectacle  which 
made  her  heart  sink  and  her  faintest  hopes  vanish. 
Roberto's  mother,  more  dead  than  alive,  her  face  covered 
with  gastly  pallor,  her  knees  breaking,  her  dress  torn  and 
disordered,  was  led  away  almost  insensible  by  Dona  Catita 
and  Mother  Santos.  Arrived  at  the  head  of  the  stair-case, 
she  turned  back  toward  where  the  Commander  sat,  and 
with  uplifted  hands  folded  in  prayer,  fell  on  her  kneea 
again,  screaming:  "Mercy!  Mercy!  For  the  love  of 
God ! " 


330  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

One  of  her  own  attendants  who  had  waited  on  the  land 
ing  of  the  main  stair-case,  now  came  up,  and  with  the  aid 
of  the  other  two  women,  lifted  her  from  the  stony  floor  and 
carried  her  down  stairs  into  one  of  the  servants'  rooms, 
where  they  spoke,  unavailingly,  words  of  comfort,  until  the 
poor  lady  had  gathered  strength  enough  to  repair  to  the 
prison  of  her  son.  whom  she  had  obtained  permission  to 
see  for  a  last  farewell. 

It  had  become  a  terrible  certainty  to  Mercedes  that  her 
prayer  would  not  be  granted  after  the  mother's  prayer  had 
been  refused.  And  yet  does  not  the  human  heart  hope 
against  hope,  does  it  not  cling  even  to  the  hope  of  hope, 
after  all  real  hope  is  gone? 

The  young  officer  returned.  His  Excellency  would  speak 
to  Mercedes.  Her  pretty  face  had  secured  her  an  audience, 
which  for  the  Senora  Sanchez  only  the  influential  exer 
tion  of  the  Marquis,  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  had  been 
able  to  obtain. 

The  Commander  seemed  to  be  in  excellent  spirits.  The 
scene  with  the  mother  of  his  victim  had  not  ruffled  his 
composure.  He  was  tasting  a  draught  of  sweetened  chicha 
which  the  Seiiorita  Dolores  had  sent  to  convince  him  that 
a  very  palatable  drink  could  be  made  of  the  national  bever 
age  of  the  aborigines  by  artistic  treatment  and  additions. 

The  old  gentleman  winked  knowingly  at  the  young  of 
ficer  as  he  approached  with  his  protege. 

"By  Santiago!  That  scapegrace  Ramirez  is  always  in 
luck,"  his  Excellency  was  pleased  to  remark  to  the  of 
ficer  who  stood  at  his  side,  holding  the  silver  plate  from 
which  his  commander  had  taken  the  goblet.  "A  beautiful 
face!  Dofla  Inez  of  Ambato  will  be  forgotten,  now.  'Out 
of  sight,  out  of  mind.'  'Young  heart,  light  heart!" 

The  bystanders  laughed  dutifully  at  the  pleasantry  of 
their  superior. 

"  Well,  Ramirez,"  continued  the  old  man.  "  We  are 
ready  to  inspect  your  new  flame.  Curamba!  This  is  a 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  331 

treasure  of  an  inheritance.  Accept  our  congratulations,  if 
you  are  to  be  the  heir,  of  which  I  have  no  doubt,  judging 
from  3*our  past  successes.  '  To  be  born  lucky  is  better  than 
to  be  born  rich.'  " 

In  the  meantime,  the  trembling  subject  of  his  Excel 
lency's  coarse  jokes  had  thrown  herself  on  her  knees  before 
the  old  man,  and  stammered:  "  Mercy,  Senor,  mercy!  " 

"  Well !  Well !  "  said  Arana,  pleased  with  the  appearance 
of  the  girl,  "  this,  then,  is  the  pretty  bait  with  which  our 
friends  entrapped  the  rebel  chief.  By  Santiago!  If  I  were 
not  so  old,  I  should  have  gone  into  that  trap  myself.  We 
owe  thee  an  important  debt,  my  pretty  American,  for  the 
service  thou  and  thy  house  have  rendered  to  the  King's 
cause." 

The  first  impulse  of  Mercedes  was  to  deny  the  dreadful 
charge  which  weighed  so  heavily  on  her  soul,  although 
she  was  conscious  of  her  innocence;  but  at  that  moment 
the  thought  flashed  through  her  mind  that  Arana's  mis 
taken  belief  might  give  her  a  claim  on  his  mercy.  Hence 
she  said  after  a  moment's  reflection  : 

"  On  my  knees,  I  thank  your  Excellency  for  these  kind 
words,  and  if  the  service — my — my — mother  has  rendered, 
should  really  be  considered  important  by  your  Excel 
lency " — 

.  "  Do  not  let  us  speak  of  your  mother  now,  my  little  one. 
Thy  mother  has  received  her  reward.  It  is  the  daughter 
to  whom  some  acknowledgment  is  due.  If  thou  wilt  ask 
a  favor  which  I  have  the  power  to  grant,  I  will  grant  it. 
Speak  out  without  fear,  and  be  short  about  it.  '  Long 
speeches  will  make  the  soup  boil  over.'  " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency.  One  word  will  express  all  that 
I  pray  for  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  It  is  the  life  of  Rob 
erto  Sanchez.  Mercy,  Seuor,  misericordia  /'' 

The  commander  had  taken  a  sip  from  the  goblet  he  still 
held,  and  then  handed  it  with  a  grimace  to  the  officer  be 
hind  his  chair,  saying  :  "  With  all  due  respect  and  admira- 


332  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

X 

tion  for  our  excellent  hostess,  the  Senorita  Dolores,  I  must 
say  that  this  native  drink  is  detestable.  Of  course  we  shall 
not  tell  her  so,  but  bring  me  some  Christian  aguardiente  to 
get  this  heathenish  taste  out  of  my  mouth."  And,  turning 
to  the  girl,  he  continued  :  "Thou  art  a  strange  <;hild  !  If 
thou  didst  not  wish  him  to  die,  why  didst  thou  entrap  him  ? 
Jealousy,  perhaps !  I  see!  I  see!  The  young  man  had 
played  with  others,  and  we  became  mad  with  jealousy, 
thirsting  for  revenge,  and  now  we  repent  of  it.  O,  women, 
Avomen  !  They  are  all  alike." 

All  the  considerations  of  prudence  to  which  Mercedes 
had  forced  herself  to  yield,  broke  down  now,  and  before  the 
Count  had  quite  finished  his  speech,  she  exclaimed  !  "  But 
I  did  not  entrap  him,  your  Excellency.  I  am  innocent  of 
all  treachery  !" 

"  There  !  there  !"  replied  Arana.  "  Upon  what  ground, 
then,  dost  thou  come  before  me  to  ask  favors?" 

"  On  the  ground  of  mercy,  Senor,  in  the  name  of  God, 
and  for  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ.  God  is  mercy,  and  he 
has  placed  the  King  over  us,  whose  loyal  servant  I  am. 
Why  should  not  the  King  be  merciful?  God  forgives  us 
our  sins;  why  should  not  the  King  forgive  ?  Your  Excel 
lency  stands  in  the  King's  place.  Why  should  not  your 
Excellency  be  merciful  ?  What  is  one  life  to  the  King, 
who  has  been  set  to  rule  over  millions  ?  Who  could  prevail 
against  the  King's  power  ?  The  King  can  afford  to  pardon 
those  who  err,  as  God  in  Heaven  forgives  us  our  trespasses." 

"  This  girl  talks  remarkably  well,"  said  Arana,  quite 
amused  ;  "  but  we  must  impart  a  little  religious  instruction 
to  her  ignorant  mind.  Thou  considerest  not,  my  child,  that 
the  King  can  not  change  the  hearts  and  minds  of  men. 
The  King  is  not  almighty.  The  King  must  punish  where 
God  might  pardon.  Mercy  to  the  wicked  is  cruelty  to  the 
good.  The  lions  and  the  tigers  must  be  killed ;  they  can 
not  be  tamed.  The  man  whom  thou  lovest  has  committed 
almost  every  crime  mortal  man  can  commit.  He  has  been 


BOOK    V.      THE   VALUE   OF   LIFE.  333 

a  rebel  and  a  traitor  to  his  King,  and  an  apostate  to  his 
God  ;  he  has  committed  murder  after  murder ;  he  has  been 
guilty  of  tyranny  and  robbery.  To  spare  his  life  would 
be  an  encouragement  to  others  to  do  as  he  has  done.  No, 
my  child  !  God  may  pardon,  but  I  must  condemn  him. 
Thank  you,  Olivarez,"  he  added,  as  he  took  the  glass  of 
rum  presented  to  him  by  an  officer,  and  emptied  it  at  one 
draught ;  "  that 's  better  than  that  Indian  abomination." 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN    THE    TOILS. 

A  SUITE  of  three  rooms  in  the  barracks  was  occupied  by 
Juan  del  Puente  and  Idelfonso  Coronel.  These  rooms  had 
the  view  of  the  street,  and  doors  leading  to  an  arched  cor 
ridor,  running  along  a  large,  square  court.  The  outside  door 
to  the  third  of  these  rooms,  and  its  only  window,  had  re 
cently  been  walled  up.  This  room  was  the  prison  of  Ro 
berto  Sanchez.  Whatever  light  and  air  it  had,  it  received 
through  a  door  inside,  which  led  into  the  second  room,  and 
was  always  kept open.  This  was  Juan  del  Puente's  room,  who 
thus  kept  his  prisoner  continually  in  sight.  The  third  and 
outer  I'oom  was  the  present  habitation  of  Idelfonso  Coronel. 
Sentinels  were  pacing  the  corridors,  the  court,  and  the  streets 
outside.  In  addition  to  all  these  precautions,  Sanchez  was 
chained  by  the  foot  to  a  ring  in  the  floor,  the  chain  being  long 
enough  to  enable  him  to  lie  down  on  a  bed  of  straw,  cov 
ered  with  sheepskins  and  a  few  ponchos.  His  wrists  were 
in  fetters  connected  by  a  chain,  the  shortness  of  which 
was  a  source  of  constant  annoyance.  In  this  prison  he 
had  languished  since  Arana's  triumphal  entrance  in  Quito. 
No  one  hud  been  allowed  to  see  him.  Del  Puente  and 
Coronel  were  his  only  companions,  with  the  exception  of  a 


334  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

Spanish  priest,  whose  visits  had  been  permitted  since  the 
promulgation  of  the  death-sentence. 

On  the  day  before  the  execution,  however,  Roberto's 
mother,  as  we  already  know — thanks  to  the  intercession 
of  the  Marquis  of  Solarido — had  secured  the  privilege  of 
being  admitted  to  her  son's  prison.  She  was  now  with 
him,  pressing  him  to  her  bosom  in  an  agonized  embrace, 
as  if  she  could  tear  him  away  from  the  hateful  flight  of 
time,  or  stem  the  terrible  escape  of  the  sand  which  was  irre 
trievably  ebbing  away  from  the  hour-glass,  steadily  dimin 
ishing  the  short  remainder  of  life. 

"  Senor  Del  Puente! "  said  Sanchez  after  he  had  extricated 
himself  from  her  first  embraces.  "May  I  ask  a  favor  of 
you.  1  have  given  you  little  or  no  trouble,  and  complied 
with  all  your  regulations  ;  and  you  might  now  do  a  little 
act  of  kindness  to  me." 

"  What  is  it,  Senor  Don  Roberto?" 

"  Take  off  my  handcuffs — take  them  off  for  a  few  minutes 
at  least.  I  could  not  escape  if  I  would,  and,  while  you 
oblige  me,  I  would  not  if  I  could." 

"  I  regret  to  say,  Senor  Don  Roberto,  that  I  have  no 
authority  to  do  so." 

"Authority !  You  are  in  command  here,  Don  Juan. 
Your  will  is  your  authority,  I  dislike  to  remind  you  that 
you  were  my  prisoner  once — a  very,  ver}r  short  time  ago. 
I  saved  your  life,  Don  Juan,  which  my  comrades  would 
have  sacrificed,  and  I  leave  it  to  you  to  say  whether  I  did 
not  treat  you  as  a  Christian  knight  should  treat  a  prisoner 
of  war?" 

"  What  you  say,  Senor  Don  Roberto,  is  true,  and  thous 
and  thanks  to  your  Grace  for  it.  But  your  Grace  must 
consider  that  you  were  your  own  master,  while  I  am  my 
master's  servant.  Your  Grace  gnve  orders  instead  of  re 
ceiving  them.  I  receive  orders  and  must  obey.  If  I  were 
not  afraid  of  committing  high  treason  myself,  I  should  like 
to  say  that  if  the  King  of  Spain  were  not  my  master,  but 


BOOK   V.      THE   VALUE_OF   LIFE.  335 

if  I  had  the  choice  of  a  master,  I  could  not  wish  a  better 
one  than  your  Grace.  But  the  King  of  Spain  is  my  mas 
ter,  and  that's  the  end  of  it." 

"But  I  ask  a  mere  nothing,  Senor  Del  Pucnte.  Here  is 
my  mother,  to  whom  I  must  bid  a  last,  an  eternal  farewell. 
Let  me  clasp  her  to  my  breast  but  for  a  few  seconds.  I  can 
not  do  it  with  these  handcuffs  on.  Look  at  the  shortness 
of  this  chain,  and  have  pity  on  both  of  us.  Nobody  will 
know  it,  Seiior  Del  Puente." 

"Ah,  Seiior  Don  .Roberto,  should  a  soldier,  a  splendid 
soldier  like  your  Grace,  thus  speak  to  a  soldier  like  myself, 
acting  under  orders.  Suppose  your  Grace,  while  in  com 
mand,  had  given  an  order  to  one  of  your  men.  Would  your 
Grace  have  him  disregard  it,  on  the  supposition  that  his 
offense  would  not  come  to  the  knowledge  of  3Tour  Grace?" 

"I  shall. not  trouble  3-011  again,"  said  Sanchez,  turning 
away.  "  Come,  Mother,  let  us  sit  down  on  this  bed  and  let 
us  speak  of  yourself.  Mother.  My  account  is  easily  settled, 
and  1  do  not  fear  death.  If  I  did  fear  it,  I  should  not  bo 
where  I  am  now.  But  I  grieve  for  you,  dear  Mother.  It 
is  my  only  grief.  To  suffer  death  under  some  circum 
stances  is  not  as  hard  a  task  as  to  suffer  life.  What  will  be 
come  of  3rou.  Mother?.  They  have  confiscated  our  estates; 
they  will  drive  you  from  our  house  in  order  to  raze  it  to  the 
ground.  This  thought,  Mother,  is  more  horrid  to  me  than 
the  cruel  death  which  I  must  suffer  to-morrow." 

We  shall  drop  the  curtain  over  this  painful  scene. 
There  is  an  end  to  all  things,  and  where  time  is  most  pre 
cious,  its  flight  is  the  swiftest. 

The  door  between  the  room  of  Del  Puente  and  the  ad 
joining  room  of  Coronel  was  closed,  and  a  sentinel  was 
placed  before  it.  The  time  allotted  for  the  visit  of  the 
Seuora  Sanchez  had  expired.  She  begged  to  return  on 
the  following  morning,  but  Sanchez  insisted  that  she  should 
not.  He  also  made  her  promise  not  to  see  him  led  out  to 
his  end,  but  to  offer  up  prayers  during  his  last  hours  on 


336  THE   SECRET  OP   THE   ANDES. 

earth.  Del  Puente  led  her  away.  He  opened  the  door  for 
her  and  almost  carried  her  to  the  room  of  Coronel.  That 
worthy  was  out,  but  the  attendants  of  the  Senora  awaited 
her.  In  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room  sat  a  woman 
dressed  in  deep  mourning,  covered  with  a  black  veil,  and 
attended  by  a  young  Mestizo  girl  who  played  with  a  smil 
ing  babe  which  she  held  in  her  arms. 

The  Sefiora  Sanchez  was  so  overcome  that  for  a  long 
time  she  was  unable  to  compose  herself.  Sinking  into  a 
chair,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  wept  until  her 
sobs  died  away  in  a  heart-rending  moan.  At  last  her  at 
tendants  prevailed  upon  her  to  arouse  herself,  and  to  go. 
At  the  same  time,  Del  Puente,  who  had  strolled  out  into 
the  court-yard,  returned,  and  said  to  the  woman  in  the  cor 
ner,  that  he  would  now  announce  her  to  Don  Roberto. 
Mercedes — for  it  was  Mercedes — arose  tremblingly,  and 
stepped  forward,  waiting  to  be  called  in.  Just  then  the 
eyes  of  Hoberto's  mother  fell  upon  her,  and  recognized  her 
in  spite  of  her  veil.  The  old  lady  at  once  pressed  back  her 
garments,  as  if  to  escape  the  polluting  touch,  and  grasping 
the  arm  of  one  of  her  companions  with  her  other  hand, 
drew  her  away,  exclaiming:  "Hence!  Hence!  Let  us 
not  breathe  the  air  poisoned  by  that  viper,  that  vile, 
treacherous  murderess." 

These  words  stunned  and  nearly  crushed  poor  Mercedes, 
and  she  sank  back  into  the  chair  from  which  she  had 
arisen. 

"  I  will  not  see  her!  "  said  Roberto,  after  he  had  learned 
from  Juan  del  Puente  that  Mercedes  was  in  waiting. 

"But  she  has  an  order  from  the  Royal  Commissioner  al 
lowing  her  to  see  your  Grace  !  "  rejoined  the  Spaniard. 

"Allowing  her  to  see  me ;  yes.  But  has  she  an  order 
compelling  me  to  see  her,  Senor  del  Puente  ?  " 

The  Spaniard  seemed  puzzled.  "  My  orders  are  to  let 
her  in ! " 

"  You  may  let  her  in,  Senor  del  Puente,  if  I  wish  to  see 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  337 

her.  Tho  Royal  Commissioner  does  not  object  to  my  sec- 
ing  her.  But  I  will  not  receive  her,  unless  the  Royal  Com 
missioner  compels  me  to  undergo  this  additional  punish 
ment.  Go,  Senor  del  Puente!  Do  not  torment  your 
prisoner.  You  refused  to  tako  off  these  manacles  for  a 
moment,  because  you  had  no  orders  allowing  it.  Stand  by 
3- our  orders  now.  You  have  no  orders  to  inflict  a  visitor 
on  me,  whom  I  refuse  to  admit.  There  comes  rny  Rever 
end  Father.  Do  not  distract  my  thoughts  now,  Senor  del 
Puente,  but  leave  me  with  him.'' 

Del  Puente  left,  but  after  a  little,  returned  again. 

"  That  girl  is  distracted,  your  Grace.  She  swears  she 
did  not  betray  your  Grace.  She  implores  your  Grace,  by 
all  that  is  sacred,  to  let  her  come  in." 

"  Senor  del  Puente,  must  I  be  tormented  during  the  few 
hours  that  are  left  to  me  of  life.  I  have  decided,  and  the 
moments  are  too  precious  to  be  wasted  thus." 

"  Well,  then,  she  begs  that  your  Grace  may  at  least  see 
and  bless  the  child." 

"  The  child  !  Whose  child  ?  How  do  I  know  that  it  is 
my  child?  Shall  I  believe  the  woman  who  sold  me?  She 
must  have  betrayed  rno  before,  as  she  did  afterward." 

"  My  son  !  My  son  !  "  now  interrupted  the  monk,  who 
was  no  less  a  person  than  the  Superior  of  La  Merced. 
'•  Hast  thou  forgotten  that  Christ  on  the  cross  forgave  his 
enemies?  1  do  not  find  thce  in  the  spirit  in  which  I  left 
thee  on  yesterday.  Thou  must  forgive  this  girl !  " 

'•I  do  so,  Eevercnd  Father;  I  forgive  her.  It  is  hard, 
dreadfully  hard  to  forgive  her.  When  I  think  that  victory 
was  in  my  grasp  ;  that  but  for  her  the  Royal  Commander 
would  have  been  my  prisoner ;  that  I  should  have  been 
King  of  the  realm,  the  happy  husband  of  a  beautiful  and 
lovely  Princess,  the  possessor  of  untold  wealth,  the  com 
mander  of  an  army  of  my  own  formation,  and  that  even  if 
I  had  failed  in  the  end,  my  name  would  have  lived  for 
ever  ;  when  I  think  that  success,  glory,  happiness,  greatness 


338  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

would  have  been  mine,  but  for  the  viper  who  entrapped  me 
into  destruction — it  is  almost  too  hard  to  forgive." 

"  Think  of  thy  Savior,  my  son.  Time  flies.  The  hour 
approaches;  thou  must  appear  before  thy  God." 

"  1  know,  Reverend  Father,  and  I  forgive — I  forgive 
her." 

"With  all  thy  heart?" 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Father ;  but  I  can  riot  see  her.  It 
would  unsettle  my  mind;  it  would  distract  my  thoughts  ; 
it  would  disturb  my  composure.  I  could  not  drink  in 
your  holy  words  as  I  wish  to.  I  forgive  her,  and  you  may 
tell  her  so.  Impose  any  penance  upon  me,  Father,  but  do 
not  compel  me  to  see  her.  Anything  but  that!  I  will 
not,  I  can  not,  see  her !" 

An  hour  after  these  scenes.  Juan  del  Puente  stepped  out 
into  the  court-yard  and  looked  around  for  Ildefonso  Cor- 
onel.  Not  seeing  him  anywhere,  Del  Pnente  asked  one  of 
the  sentinels  whither  that  worth}"  had  gone.  The  soldier 
said  that  Sefior  Ildefonso  had  left  word  be  would  be  back 
in  a  very  short  time  to  relieve  the  Sefior  Captain." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  thought  Del  Puente,  "  it  is  no  pleasure 
to  be  a  jailer.  I  long  for  a  little  fresh  air  and  for  a  chat 
with  Dona  Panchita,  after  having  been  locked  up  all  day." 

At  last  Ildefonso  returned,  growling  as  usual. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  man?"  asked  Del  Puente. 

"Hang  your  impudence!"  muttered  his  worthy  com 
rade.  "  Am  I  to  be  a  prisoner  because  we  have  to  keep 
one?" 

"  I  do  not  like  to  remind  you,  Ildefonso,  of  a  fact  which 
you  seem  to  forget.  Are  you  at  all  aware  that  I  am  your 
superior  officer?" 

"  And  why  should  you  be?  How  came  you  to  be  my 
superior  officer?  By  snatching  from  me  what  belonged  to 
me.  You  are  pushing  and  bold,  while  I  am  modest  and 
retiring." 

"  I  see !     I  see,  Ildefonso.  I  am  in  your  way  again.     If 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE   OP    LIFE.  339 

it  were  not  for  me  you  would  rise  in  the  world.  It  is  well. 
You  shall  not  remain  with  me  any  longer.  To-morrow  1 
shall  make  application  to  the  Commander  to  put  you  in 
charge  of  an  independent  post — to  send  you  anywhere,  so 
that  you  get  away  from  me." 

"Go  to  the  devil,  Del  Puente!"  interrupted  the  other, 
"you  will  never  understand  me.  Here  I  have  been  hurry 
ing  back  to  relieve  you;  in  fact,  I  have  hardly  been  out. 
I  hastened  home  to  enable  you  to  rush  into  the  arms  of 
Doila  Panchita,  and  now  you  grumble  and  rail  at  my  good 
will,  and  scold  me  for  my  readiness  to  sit  here  all  alone 
with  our  prisoner  until  you  get  through  with  your  love- 
making." 

"Your  good  will!  Your  readiness!  Let  me  tell  you, 
once  for  all,  Ildefonso  Coronel,  that  I  am  tired,  thoroughly 
tired,  of  your  grumbling,  your  ingratitude,  and  your 
insubordination.  I  am  in  earnest,  Ildefonso.  Either 
you  will  now  and  forever  realize  your  position  as  my 
subordinate,  and  act  accordingly,  or  we  shall  part  to-mor 
row.  I  shall  give  you  a  night  to  sleep  over  it.  Do  not 
say  another  word !  I  am  not  in  a  humor  to  listen. 
Adios!" 

"His  Grace  is  not  in  a  humor  to  listen  to  Ildefonso 
Coronel,"  muttered  that  subordinate,  as  he  entered  his 
room.  "His  Grace  is  tired  of  me,  thoroughly  tired  of  my 
insubordination,  his  Grace  was  pleased  to  remark.  Yes, 
yes,  the  swine-herd,  the  beggar,  the  hired  assassin  is  get 
ting  tired  of  the  ingratitude  of  those  who  made  him.  We 
shall  see!  There  is  a  bull  for  this  sin!*  We  shall  see 
who  will  be  the  better  and  the  richer  man,  when  we  return 
to  Spain.  Is  the  prisoner  alone,  sentinel  ?" 

"No,  Senor.  His  .Reverence,  the  Father  Superior,  is 
with  him." 

"  It  is  well !"     And  now  Ildefonso  entered  Del  Puente's 

*  A  well-known  Spanish  proverb:  "  Contra  este  pecado  hay  una 
bula." 


340  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

room,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  .Roberto  and  the 
monk  were  engaged  in  close  conversation.  "  I  hope  that 
friar  will  go,"  thought  Coronel,  u  before  Del  Puente  comes 
back.  I  must  prepare  the  young  rebel.  But  now  the 
goblet.  I  must  fix  that  first.  Ten  drops  will  do  to  put  a 
man  into  a  death-like  sleep,  which  will  last  ten  hours. 
'No  power  on  earth,'  the  fellow  said,  'will  awake  your 
man  before  the  time  is  up.  But,'  said  he,  '  if  you  do  not 
want  him  to  awake  at  all,  give  him  more.  If  you  give 
him  twenty  drops,  your  man  will  sleep  forever.'  Now,  let 
me  see  whether  1  understand  it  right.  Ten  drops  I  want 
in  mine,  for  I  do  want  to  awake  and  to  go  back  to  glorious 
Spain,  to  enjoy  this  great  good  fortune,  this  unexpected 
windfall  of  luck.  Ten  drops  for  me,  to  avert  suspicion.  I 
shall  be  careful  to  count  them,  and  shall  not  mix  them  be 
fore  Del  Puente  has  gone  to  sleep.  But  Del  Puente's  gob 
let  must  be  fixed  now.  There  it  goes !  One,  two,  three, 
five,  seven,  eight,  nine,  eleven,  twelve — what  a  mistake  ! 
These  drops  rushed  out  before  I  could  count  them  !  H'm  ! 
what  was  it  he  said  ?  He  is  tired  of  my  impudence.  I 
must  not  forget  that  I  am  his  subordinate,  or  he  will  have 
me  sent  elsewhere!  There  drops  another!  Thirteen! 
Now,  really,  I  did  not  mean  that.  It  was  not  my  inten 
tion.  But  I  can  not  waste  the  precious  liquor  by  throwing 
this  out.  There  would  not  be  enough  left  for  the  senti 
nels.  He  will  not  put  up  with  rny  hatefulness  any  longer 
— the  great  man  who  allowed  himself  to  be  captured,  like 
a  monkey,  by  a  handful  of  half-starved  insurgents — will 
he  not?  But  suppose  I  should  not  put  up  with  him  any 
longer?  Suppose  this  were  my  turn,  Juan  del  Puente — 
the  turn  of  grumbling,  ungrateful,  impudent,  incapable, 
envious,  and  insubordinate  Ildefonso  Coronel,  who  did  all 
the  hard  work,  and  suffered  all  the  heavy  blows,  while 
you  reaped  the  honors  and  the  emoluments.  Fourteen, 
fifteen  !  No,  Juan  del  Puente,  I  will  not  cheat  the  devil 
of  his  due.  My  conscience  would  not  allow  it.  The 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  341 

devil  must  got  thce  in  the  end,  and  the  sooner  he  gets  thee 
the  better  it  will  be  for  all  Christians.  Sixteen,  eighteen, 
twenty — and  one  over,  for  better  assurance.  It  will  be  a 
good,  sound  sleep,  Senor  Captain.  Thou  wilt  surely 
enjoy  it.  Now  for  the  wine — Cararnba !  What  elegant 
flavor!  Here  goes!  Your  very  good  health,  Senor  del 
Puente  !" 


CHAPTEE  III. 

THE    UNSEEN    PROTECTRESS. 

THE  Count  of  Arana  was  an  early  riser.  He  took  two 
or  three  naps  during  the  day,  but  he  rose  before  five  in  the 
morning  ia  order  to  dispatch  his  civil  business  and  corres 
pondence,  so  as  to  be  free  to  devote  the  rest  of  the  day  to 
military  matters  and  to  amusements.  In  this,  as  in  every 
thing  else,  he  was  pedantically  systematic,  and  his  civil 
and  military  dependents  were  compelled  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  his  unreasonable  hours. 

The  mail  from  Lima  and  the  coast  had  arrived  the  even 
ing  before,  and  Arana's  secretaries  had  spent  half  the  night 
in  digesting  and  abbreviating  its  contents  so  as  to  present 
a  short  summary  of  the  principal  points  to  their  chief  in 
the  morning.  Arana  had  risen  earlier  than  usual  this  day, 
for  he  wished  to  hold  himself  in  special  readiness  for  the 
execution.  He  was  now  at  work  with  his  secretaries  while 
sipping  a  cup  of  hot  chocolate  with  a  strong  admixture  of 
rum.  Two  or  three  wax  candles  burned  on  the  table,  dim 
ming  under  the  increasing  daylight. 

"  There  are  several  long  communications  with  reference 
to  the  Seiior  Julio  de  Carrera,"  said  one  of  the  secretaries. 
"  Society  at  Lima  is  in  ecstasies  over  his  martyrdom.  The 
poets  have  sung  his  praises.  Seiior  Odriozola,  by  special 
instruction  of  His  Eoyal  Highness,  has  collected  copies  of 


342  THE  SECRET  or  THE  ANDES. 

all  their  pieces,  and  be  transmits  them  herewith  to  your 
Excellency." 

"  By  Santiago !  Not  for  me  to  read  1"  thundered  the  old 
man. 

"No,  most  excellent  Senor,"  replied  the  secretary,  un 
able  to  suppress  a  smile,  "  but  to  cause  them  to  be  delivered 
to  the  young  gentleman's  relatives,  whom  it  is  His  High 
ness'  purpose  to  honor  by  this  attention." 

"  Did  the  young  gentleman  have  any  relatives?" 

"  No,  most  excellent  Sefior,  none  but  his  uncle,  who  is 
dead." 

"Do  you  know  who  his  principal  friends  were,  or  at 
whose  house  he  made  his  tertulia?"  * 

"  He  was  a  regular  and  constant  visitor  at  this  house, 
your  Excellency^ 

"  Well,  then,  we  shall  refer  these  papers  to  the  Marquis. 
The  Senorita  Dolores  will  tell  us  what  to  do  with  them." 

'•The  ladies  at  Lima  are  wearing  Carrera-ribbons  and 
Carrera-combs ;  and  at  the  theater  they  will  have  his  story 
written  up  for  a  tragedy.  His  Royal  Highness,  the  Viceroy, 
is  satisfied  that  our  Master  the  King  will  reward  Carrera's 
noble  self-sacrifice  by  some  special  act  of  recognition,  either 
to  the  gentlemen  himself,  if  he  should  ever  be  found,  or  to 
his  family.  In  the  meantime,  His  Royal  Highness  requests 
your  Excellency  to  make  special  exertions  to  ascertain  what 
has  become  of  Carrera,  and  if  there  should  be  no  doubt  of 
his  death  to  honor  his  memory  by  some  temporary  monu 
ment,  with  a  suitable  inscription,  until  the  royal  pleasure 
can  be  ascertained." 

"  Well  and  good!"  said  Arana.  "The  instructions  of 
His  Highness  must  be  complied  with  to  the  letter.  I  think 
it  would  be  best  to  offer  a  reward  for  the  discovery  and 
identification  of  Carrera's  remains  or  for  a  clue  to  this  mys 
tery.  If  anything  can  do  it,  it  will  be  money.  I  find  the 

*His  regular  daily  visits. 


BOOK    V.       THE   VALUE    OF    LIFE.  343 

Americans  are  as  fond  of  it  as  our  people  at  home. — Rami- 
rez ! " 

That  officer,  who  had  been  standing  in  the  door,  now 
sprang  forward. 

"  Let  Juan  del  Puente  come  here  at  once.  I  want  to  in 
struct  him,  personally,  as  to  his  duties  to-day.  This  is  our 
first  execution,  and  it  must  be  made  as  impressive  as  possi 
ble.  I  would  not,  for  anything  in  the  world,  have  this  bus 
iness  bunglingly  done.  You  had  better  go  for  Del  Puente 
yourself,  Senor  Ramirez,  and  on  your  way  to  and  fro,  see 
whether  everything  is  in  proper  readiness.  Examine  the 
scaffold,  if  you  please.  I  saw  an  execution  once  where 
they  had  not  fastened  the  fellow's  seat  properly.  It  broke 
down  under  his  weight,  and  the  whole  thing  became  ridicu 
lous.  We  will  have  no  break-downs  to-day,  gentlemen,  no 
break-downs.  We  shall  break  a  neck,  but  not  a  seat." 
And,  as  usual,  the  old  gentleman  graciously  led  the  laugh 
ter  over  his  own  pleasantry. 

'•'Proceed,  Mr.  Secretary!"  said  Arana,  after  Ramirez 
had  left  the  room. 

''  The  Fisc/il  of  the  court-martial  reports  five  sentences 
of  death  and  confiscation  for  your  Excellency's  confirma 
tion." 

"  Five !  What  a  folly.  Could  he  not  have  made  it  four 
or  six  for  the  time  being  ?  I  do  not  like  odd  numbers.  They 
always  leave  a  chance  for  the  devil.  When  we  shall  have 
to  hang  you,  Mr.  Secretary,  you  may  rest  assured  we  shall 
give  you  a  companion."  And  over  this  new  pleasantry 
his  Excellencj'  laughed  until  his  laughter  changed  into  a 
coughing  fit,  and  his  cough  terminated  in  an  oath.  "And 
who  are  they  ?  " 

The  Senores  Garcia,  father  and  son,  the  Senores  Olmos, 
father  and  son,  and  old  Pedro  Perez,  the  lieutenant  of  Ro 
berto  Sanchez.  Old  Perez  was  too  sick  to  make  a  de 
fense." 

"  Not  necessary.     If  he  is  very  sick,  we  shall  save  him 


344  THE    SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

the  trouble  of  dying,  by  cutting  off  his  bead.  We  shall 
do  the  part  of  a  doctor  by  him.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Hand 
me  the  sentences.  I  shall  sign  them  now,  but  they  must 
not  be  published  until  we  have  secured  the  gentlemen  from 
the  country.  We  can  not  catch  flies  with  vinegar.  That 
must  be  a  stupid  fish  which  would  swallow  the  bait  after 
having  seen  the  hook  under  it.  No,  Senor,  let  us  go  slowly, 
but  be  sure.  Skill  is  worth  more  than  strength.  Let 
these  sentences  be  kept  secret  until  the  proper  time  has 
come.  I  wonder  how  well  Seftor  Paredes  has  succeeded  in 
overcoming  the  shyness  of  some  of  these  gentlemen  ?  " 

"He  said  he  expected  to  make  a  favorable  report  to  your 
Excellency  this  morning." 

"  Well,  why  has  he  not  come  ?  Where  is  he  ?  He  knows 
I  require  punctuality.  Feed  a  horse  regularly  and  you 
will  save  half  the  fodder." 

"Ah,  but  your  Excellency  began  work  half  an  hour  ear 
lier  this  morning  than  usual." 

"That's  so!  I  had  forgotten.  Well,  let  it  pass.  Do 
you  think,"  he  added,  leaning  forward  over  the  table  and 
reducing  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  that  that  man  would 
presume  to  keep  up  a  clandestine  correspondence  with  the 
authorities  at  Lima  or  Madrid,  now  that  I  have  arrived  to 
take  charge  of  matters  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  your  Excellency.  In  fact,  I  can  not 
suspect  that  he  would  presume  to  do  so,  now  that  his,  or 
rather  the  Marquis'  commission,  has  been  superseded  by 
your  Excellency's.  And  how  could  he  do  it  without  our 
being  informed  by  the  post-office  authorities?" 

"True  enough  !  But  he  is  a  man  of  great  resources  and 
— I  say  so  cheerfully  and  willingly — a  man  of  good  uses. 
But  the  egg  must  not  attempt  to  bo  wiser  than  the  hen. 
While  I  am  on  deck  I  will  be  the  captain,  and  I  shall  tol 
erate  no  meddling  with  my  affairs.  Men  who  have  ren 
dered  valuable  services  are  apt  to  become  conceited  or 
overbearing,  or  to  think  they  are  indispensable,  and  that 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE   OP    LIFE.  345 

the  world  would  come  to  a  stand-still  without  them.  They 
are  mistaken,  Mr.  Secretary.  The  world  will  not  come  to 
a  stand-still  when  they  are  gone.  Time  and  tide  will  roll 
on,  Mr.  Secretary,  when  you  and  I  shall  be  no  more.  But 
there  comes  our  great  man  himself!" 

"  I  kiss  your  Excellency's  hands,"  said  Paredes  as  he 
entered,  "and  beg  your  Excellency's  pardon  if  I  should  be 
late." 

"  Not  at  all,  friend  Paredes.  We  began  our  work  a  little 
earlier  than  usual.  What  good  news  can  our  friend  give  us 
this  morning?" 

"  I  think,  your  Excellency,  I  shall  soon  succeed  in  ob 
taining  a  clue  as  to  the  hiding  place  of  that  ruffianly  and 
brutal  murderer,  Juan  Castro,  the  chief  of  the  ragamuffins 
of  Quito." 

"  Castro  !  -Castro !"  repeated  Arana.     "  Who  is  he  ?" 

"He  was  the  ringleader  in  the  dastardly  murder  of  my 
lamented  and  noble  friend,  the  Count  Valverde." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  Now  I  recollect !  We  have  offered  a  reward 
for  his  apprehension." 

"  Yes,  most  excellent  Senor,  a  large  reward  has  been 
offered.  But  Castro  is  a  most  desperate  character,  who 
swayed  the  rabble  by  the  terror  with  which  he  inspired 
them.  I  have  no  doubt  there  is  a  strong  disposition  among 
his  former  associates  to  earn  the  reward;  but  the}''  are 
afraid  of  him.  He  is  as  brave  as  he  is  wicked  and  mur 
derous.  The  difficulty  would  be  in  taking  him  alive.  He 
would  not  allow  himself  to  be  taken  alive.  And  if  those 
who  intend  to  capture  him  should  kill  him  during  the 
struggle,  they  would  have  had  their  risk  and  trouble  for 
nothing.  If  your  Excellency  should  not  consider  it  for 
ward  or  presumptuous  on  my  part,  I  would  suggest  that 
the  reward  be  promised  to  those  who  bring  hina  dead  or 
alive." 

"Senor  Paredes,"  answered  the  Count,  "is  undoubtedly 
a  very  shrewd  man,  who  desires  to  serve  the  interests  of 


346  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

the  King  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  But  as  to  how  these 
interests  may  be  served  best,  your  Grace  must  allow  me  to 
be  the  judge.  More  than  the  death  of  the  villain,  we  want 
the  example  of  his  execution.  The  bringing  in  of  his  dead 
body  would  terrify  nobody.  No,  SeSor;  let  him  be  drag 
ged  into  a  public  square,  and  there  receive  his  punishment 
in  the  presence  of  hundreds  of  his  awe-stricken  confeder 
ates.  That  is  the  way  we  administer  justice  in  Spain. 
You  gentlemen  of  America  may  have  your  own  way  to  do 
things;  but  it  is  not  the  right  way,  as  your  past  troubles 
and  your  past  helplessness  have  shown." 

Paredes  bit  his  lip,  and,  with  a  prompt  effort,  concealed 
and  suppressed  his  resentment.  A  native  American  gen 
tleman,  be  he  never  so  able  and  useful,  was  a  nothing,  a 
nobody,  in  the  eyes  of  those  haughty  Spaniards,  who  came 
to  devour  the  substance  of  the  colonies.  With  all  the  tact 
and  shrewdness  of  Paredes,  he  had  not  been  able  to  ingra 
tiate  himself  with  the  Eoyal  Commissioner.  Paredes  had 
tried  his  best  to  win  the  old  man's  favor,  but  he  had 
foiled.  Perhaps  the  very  greatness  and  value  of  the  ser 
vices  rendei'ed  by  Manuel  Paredes  had  earned  for  him  the 
jealousy  and  ill-will  of  Arana, 

"But  does  it  not  strike  your  Excellency,"  resumed  the 
Creole,  "  that  it  might  be  better  to  have  his  dead  body,  than 
not  to  get  him  at  all  ?  " 

"  How  would  your  Grace  accomplish  his  death  ?  " 

"  I  thought,"  answered  Paredes,  somewhat  embarrassed, 
"  that  some  of  his  old  confederates  who  know  of  his  hiding- 
place,  would  be  willing  to  sell  and  deliver  him,  if  they 
could  do  it  without  danger  to.  themselves." 

"  But  does  Colonel  Paredes  know  that  those  men  are 
really  so  disposed  ?  " 

':  I  think,  I  may  be  sure  of  it." 

"Well,  then,  why  not  seize  the  men  who  are  suspected 
of  knowing  his  hiding-place,  and  make  them  talk  ?  The 
boot  and  the  thumbscrew  would  soon  open  their  mouths. 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  347 

We  have  appliances,  Senor  Paredes,  which  would  make 
them  very  anxious  to  divulge  what  they  know.  Nothing 
like  a  little  gentle  persuasion.  Ha  !  ha ! ha '  Just  give 
us  their  names,  friend  Paredes,  and  I  shall  answer  for  their 
readiness  to  talk." 

i  "  I  have  had  no  direct  overtures,  your  Excellency,  but  I 
have  received  many  an  indirect  hint  or  message  through 
third  and  fourth  parties,  that  if  a  reward  might  be  earned 
by  bringing  him  in  dead,  his  body  would  soon  be  forth 
coming." 

"  Well,  the  next  time  that  such  hints  and  messages  are 
brought  to  your  Grace,  you  will  do  me  the  favor  of  ascer 
taining  the  sources  from  which  they  came,  and  " — 

Arana's  sentence  was  interrupted  by  a  tumult  outside. 
Wild  exclamations,  hurried  steps,  and  clanking  swords 
were  heard  in  the  hall  and  on  the  staircase,  and  Ramirez, 
followed  by  five  or  six  officers,  and  an  equal  number  of  men, 
appeared  in  the  door.  A  number  of  civilians  headed  by 
the  Marquis  of  Solando,  Juan  de  Londono,  Ponce  de  Leon 
and  others,  also  crowded  into  the  room. 

"Well,  Caballeros,"  exclaimed  Arana.  "What  is  the 
cause  of  this  most  extraordinary  excitement?" 

"  1  hardly  dare,"  said  .Ramirez,  advancing  with  a  piece 
of  paper  in  his  hand.  "I  hardly  dare  to  acquaint  your 
Excellency  with  what  has  happened." 

"  Speak  man  !     What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Roberto  Sanchez  has  escaped! " 

Arana  stared  at  the  speaker  as  if  he  had  not  understood 
him.  His  eyes  protruded  from  their  sockets,  and  his  hair, 
which  always  seemed  to  stand  on  end,  straightened  itself 
still  more,  if  that  was  possible.  Absolute  silence  prevailed 
in  the  room.  The  civilians  who  were  present,  hardly  dared 
to  draw  their  breaths,  while  the  soldiers  were  living  pic 
tures  of  amazement  and  apprehension. 

The    silence  was   painful.     It   was   at   last   broken   by 


348  THE    SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

Arana,  who,  with  a  violent  curse,  exclaimed  :  "  What  did 
you  dare  to  tell  me  ?  .Repeat  it,  Seflor  !  " 

Arana  now  rose  from  his  chair,  and  bent  forward,  as  if 
to  assure  himself  that  he  had  heard  right. 

"  The  prisoner,  .Roberto  Sanchez,  I  am  sorry  to  inform 
your  Excellency  " — 

"  To  the  dogs  with  your  sorrow  !  Do  you  tell  me  he  has 
escaped  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency  !  " 

"  By  all  the  Saints  of  Heaven  !  "  exclaimed  the  Commis 
sioner,  inadvertently  throwing  down  and  dashing  to  pieces 
the  valuable  cup  from  which  he  had  sipped  his  chocolate, 
"this  shall  cost  more  heads  than  there  were  hairs  on  that 
cursed  rebel's  head." 

And  here  the  old  man  fell  into  another  coughing  fit, 
during  which  the  company  in  the  room  stood  silent  and 
motionless.  "  Keport,  sir,  why  do  you  not  report?  What 
is  it  you  are  twisting  in  your  hands?  " 

"  The  paper  which  was  found  in  the  empty  cell  this 
morning.  It  was  stuck  to  the  wall,  with  a  nail  in  the 
center." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Arana  grabbing  it  with  trembling 
hands.  It  took  some  time  until  he  had  sufficiently  mas 
tered  his  excitement,  to  adjust  the  paper  to  the  light,  and 
his  age-worn  eyesight,  and  not  being  much  of  a  clerk, 
he  read  slowly,and  in  a  stammering  manner:  "  '  Thus  Toa 
Duchicela  protects  her  friends.'  A  plague  on  that  Indian 
witch  !  But  where  is  Juan  del  Puente?  His  head  shall 
fall  for  this.  The  miserable  incompetent !  First  he  allows 
himself  to  be  captured  by  a  handful  of  nobodies,  and  now 
he  lets  them  steal  his  prisoner  under  his  very  nose." 

"  Juan  del  Puente's  head,  your  Excellency,  I  am  afraid, 
is  past  the  danger  of  being  lost.  We  found  him  in  a  death 
like  stupor,  breathing  but  faintly.  By  this  time  he  will 
probably  be  dead." 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OP    LIFE.  349 

"Good  for  him.  He  docs  not  deserve  to  live.  And  where 
was  Ildcfonso  Coronel  ?  " 

"  Ho  was  found  on  the  floor  of  his  room  in  the  same  con 
dition,  although  breathing  more  freely.  They  did  every 
thing  to  arouse  him,  but  it  was  impossible.  They  pinched 
him,  burned  him,  cut  him,  but  could  not  make  him  come 
to.  The  surgeons  are  now  in  charge  of  him." 

"  Were  there  no  soldiers  inside  or  outside?" 

'•  Yes,  most  excellent  Seiior.  There  were  two  men  inside, 
who  were  also  found  on  the  floor  in  a  condition  of  uncon 
sciousness,  and  whom  the  leeches  are  now  endeavoring  to 
revive.  The  sentinels  outside  report  that  a  little  after  mid 
night,  Senor  del  Puente  passed  them,  giving  the  watchword 
and  walking  out  on  the  street.  As  he  did  not  come  back, 
they  thought  he  had  gone  to  see  a,  certain  woman  of  doubt 
ful  repute,  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting.  But 
when  he  was  found  in  his  room  this  morning,  it  was  also 
discovered  that  his  hat,  cloak,  sword,  boots,  and  spurs  were 
gone.  Hence,  the  man  who  left  the  barracks  after  mid 
night  must  have  been  the  traitor,  Sanchez,  wrapped  up  in 
the  cloak  and  under  the  hat  of  Juan  del  Puente." 

"And  how  did  he  get  the  watchword  ?  " 

"  We  shall  not  be  able  to  learn  more  of  this  mystery, 
unless  one  or  more  of  the  drugged  soldiers  can  be  restored. 
On  one  of  the  tables  two  bottles  were  found  that  must  have 
held  Xerez  of  excellent  quality.  A  little  of  the  wine  had 
been  left  in  one  of  them." 

"  Let  there  be  a  searching  investigation.  Let  it  be  as 
certained  from  whom  this  wine  was  obtained." 

There  was  a  commotion  at  the  door.  An  officer  entered 
with  news. 

'•  Well,"  said  Arana  ;  "  What  else  must  I  hear,  Seiior 
Luzarraga  ?  " 

"Juan  del  Puente  is  dead,  most  excellent  Seiior;  so  are 
the  two  soldiers;  but  the  physicians  entertain  hopes  of  re 
storing  Ildefonso  Coronel ;  he  shows  symptoms  of  recovery." 


350  THE   SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Arana.  "Del  Puente  was  a  bravo 
man  and  a  good  soldier.  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  his 
soul.  If  he  wns  guilty  of  negligence,  he  paid  for  it  with 
his  life.  But  I  think  the  cause  of  this  escape  was  witch 
craft,  not  negligence.  At  what  time  was  the  escape  dis 
covered  ?  " 

"  Between  five  and  six,  your  Excellency,"  continued  Lu- 
zarraga.  "  The  sentinels  outside  were  relieved  every  two 
hours.  The  men  inside  had  been  supplanted  by  two  order 
lies,  who  were  to  remain  with  Captain  Del  Puente  from 
midnight  to  day-break.  When  the  day  dawned  and  no 
body  came  out,  although  reveille  had  been  beaten  at  five, 
I  entered  the  room  and  discovered  the  hideous  sight." 

"And  what  has  been  done  to  secure  the  recapture  of 
the  traitor  ?  " 

"  Maj-  it  please  your  Excellency,"  answered  Lieutenant 
Luzarraga, '•  I  at  once  dispatched  cavalry  in  every  direc 
tion,  with  instructions  to  scour  the  by-roads  and  to  search 
the  mountain-passes.  Every  post  inside  and  outside  of  the 
city  was  notified,  and  the  whole  country  must  now  be 
swarming  with  our  troopers.  I  did  this  on  my  own  re 
sponsibility,  and  before  my  messenger  could  have  reached 
your  Excellency,  so  as  not  to  lose  a  minute  of  precious 
time." 

'•  \ou  did  right,  Luzarraga.  We  shall  put  you  in  com 
mand  of  the  barracks.  Continue  to  send  out  your  men  ; 
have  the  whole  city  searched  ;  have  every  village  searched. 
We  must  have  him  again.  Go!" 

The  lieutenant  and  some  of  the  soldiers  left. 

"  Ah  !  I  told  you  this  morning,  Mr.  Secretary,  that  odd 
numbers  would  always  leave  a  chance  for  the  devil.  We 
should  have  given  Sanchez  a  companion  in  death."  With 
these  words,  the  old  commander  le^l  his  position  behind 
the  table,  and  joined  the  group  of  civilians  in  the  center  of 
the  room.  "And  now,  gentlemen,  what  is  your  opinion? 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  351 

Have  you  any  advice  to  offer  in  this  most  unfortunate 
emergency?" 

"I  think  your  Excellency's  plan,"  answered  Juan  de 
Londoilo  submissively,  "  is  the  best  and  only  one  under  the 
circumstances.  Let  the  search  be  incessant,  and  especially 
let  it  be  directed  to  the  Indian  villages." 

"  You  are  right,  Seiior  Alcalde.  And  you,  friend  Ponce, 
what  is  your  counsel  ?" 

"  With  the  permission  of  your  Excellency,  we  shall  em 
ploy  the  Municipality  Guards  to  aid  in  the  search,  so  as  to 
make  it  general  and  effective." 

"  Many  thanks !  I  shall  accept  your  assistance.  And 
you,  Senor  Paredes,  has  your  Grace  nothing  to  offer?" 

This  temptation  was  too  strong  to  be  overcome  by  consid 
erations  of  prudence,  and  so  Paredes  answered,  in  his  most 
obliging  tones  :  "  Your  Excellency  knows  how  these  things 
are  done  in  Spain,  where  they  do  them  so  much  better.  I 
could  suggest  only  some  clumsy  American  way  which,  as 
your  Excellency  has  well  said,  would  not  be  the  right  way. 
I  caught  the  traitor  once  and  delivered  him  into  your  Ex 
cellency's  hands;  but,  owing  to  our  Creole  helplessness,  I 
might  not  catch  him  again.  Still  my  services  are  at  your 
Excellenc3T's  command.  Your  Excellency  may  dispose  of 
them  at  pleasure." 

"  We  shall  make  use  of  them  shortly,  Senor  Paredes," 
said  Arana.  stung  to  the  quick,  •' to  ferret  out  the  parties 
who  have  been  troubling  your  Grace  with  indirect  hints  or 
messages  as  to  that  arch-traitor,  Juan  Castro.  For  the 
present,  gentlemen,  we  shall  detain  you  but  another  mo 
ment.  It  is  time  to  put  an  end  to  the  carnival  of  Indian 
witchcraft  in  this  kingdom.  There  is  one  witch  especially, 
who,  as  I  am  informed,  has  played  a  most  prominent  part 
in  the  late  disturbances — the  witch,  Mama  Eucu.  This 
dangerous  person,  it  seems,  has  practiced  her  vile  arts  for 
years,  with  the  connivance  almost,  of  the  authorities.  It 
has  been  intimated  to  me  that  persons  high  in  power  were 


352  THE   SECRET    OP   THE   ANDES. 

afraid  of  her,  because  she  was  supposed  to  know  every 
body's  secrets.  It  is  certainly  evident  that  she  has  been 
treated  with  most  incomprehensible  indulgence.  Well, 
old  Arana  is  not  afraid.  The  witch  does  not  know  any  of 
my  secrets;  for  I  have  none  except  those  of  the  King's 
service.  I  have  concluded  to  have  her  arrested  and  put 
to  trial.  If  she  knows  any  secrets  I  am  willing  to 
•have  her  divulge  them.  I  am  not  interested  in  shielding 
the  possessors  of  evil  consciences.  All  I  ask  of  you,  gen 
tlemen,  is  a  guide  to  show  my  soldiers  the  way  to  her  cot 
tage.  Sefior  Londofio,  have  the  kindness  to  attend  to  this. 
And  now,  gentlemen,  I  wish  you  good  morning.  .Ramirez ! 
Have  my  horse  in  readiness.  1  am  going  to  mount."  And, 
without  another  word  or  nod,  Arana  turned  his  back  on 
the  company,  and  walked  into  the  adjoining  room. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NOS    PATRIAM    FUGIMUS. 

WE  must  now  turn  back  to  the  night  preceding  the 
scenes  described  in  the  last  chapter.  It  was  a  dark 
and  starless  night,  premonitory  of  the  approaching  rainy 
season.  The  clouds  were  hanging  low,  some  layers  rest 
ing  on  the  very  roofs  of  public  buildings  in  the  city. 
Now  and  then  a  streak  of  lightning  relieved  the  dark 
ness,  and  the  rolling  thunder  was  heard  in  the  distance, 
but  it,  did  not  rain.  The  stillness  of  Mount  Pichincha 
was  hardly  broken  by  the  murmur  of  voices  around 
Mama  Rucu's  cottage.  A  number  of  Indians  were  there, 
and  others  were  going  and  coming.  They  glided  along 
like  shadows  of  night,  and  their  faces  could  not  be  recog 
nized  in  the  darkness.  Only  one  group  of  them  spoke,  the 


BOOK    V.      THE   VALUE   OP   LIFE.  353 

one  nearest  the  cottage ;  the  others  were  silent,  silent  as 
the  mountain  solitude  around  them. 

The  Shyri  Toa  sat  on  the  little  stone  bench,  which  had 
been  occupied  by  Marna  JRucu  when  she  was  first  introduced 
to  the  reader.  Before  her  knelt  or  stood  the  one  to  whom  she 
gave  audience  at  the  time,  while  the  others  kept  at  a  re 
spectful  distance,  so  as  not  to  hear  what  their  Queen  had 
not  intended  for  their  ears.  They  were  happy  if  they  could 
hear  but  the  musical  murmur  of  their  beloved  sovereign's 
voice.  Toa's  dress  was  not  different  from  those  of  the 
people  around  her;  but  on  her  head  she  wore  the  diadem 
with  the  emerald  emblem  of  her  ill-fated  house.  This  was 
her  only  badge  of  royalty,  and  it  appeared  and  disappeared 
as  the  lightning  struggled  with  the  dense  darkness  of  the 
night. 

"  Else,  Mariano !"  she  said  to  an  Indian  who  lay  on  the 
ground  before  her,  pressing  the  hem  of  her  garment  to  his 
lips. 

"Oh,  take  me  along  Shyri,  take  me!"  he  answered  with 
out  changing  his  attitude.  "Do  not  leave  thy  most  faith 
ful  servant  behind." 

"Poor  boy!  Hast  thou  considered  the  hardships,  the 
freezing  cold,  the  gnawing  hunger,  the  drenching  rains, 
the  shelterless  nights  of  the  journey?  Hast  thou  con 
sidered  the  sickening  climate,  the  poisonous  serpents,  the 
fierce  beasts  of  the  tropical  forests,  whither  I  am  bound. 
Child  of  the  genial  table  lands,  the  Paradise  of  earth,  house- 
servant  of  Viracocha  gentlemen,  thou  art  brought  up  and 
accustomed  to  ease  and  comfort ;  the  tropical  forests,  along 
the  great  rivers,  with  their  steaming  heat  and  aching  fevers 
are  not  for  thee  !" 

"But  thou  wilt  be  there,  Shyri,  and  whither  thou  goest 
I  want  to  go.  To  die  where  thou  art  will  be  happiness. 
Oh,  deny  it  not  to  thy  faithful  servant." 

"Mariano  !"  said  Toa  sternly,  and  yet  with  kindness,  "  I 
must  treat  all  my  children  alike.  They  would  all  follow 


354  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

i 

me  and  depopulate  the  land  of  our  fathers,  which  they  leave 
behind.  They  would  follow  me  by  thousands,  only  to  perish 
by  thousands  on  the  way.  We  have  to  pass  an  unhospitahle 
wilderness,  where  nothing  can  be  found  to  sustain  life.  We 
can  not  carry  provisions  for  the  thousands  that  would  go 
with  me.  Hence  I  have  determined  that  not  more  than 
five  hundred  shall  go,  and  I  have  selected  them  from  the 
factories,  and  the  mines,  and  the  fields;  tbou  art  a  gentle 
man's  body-servant,  thy  condition  will  be  one  of  ease  and 
comfort  if  compared  to  the  cruel  lot  of  thy  brethren.  Yet 
thy  devotion  has  touched  my  heart,  and  if  among  the  five 
hundred  that  are  to  go,  thou  canst  find  one  who  will  stay 
for  thee,  I  grant  thee  permission  to  take  his  place." 

"  Thanks,  a  thousand  thanks,  most  gracious  Shyri,"  an 
swered  the  Indian  Mariano,  whom  the  reader  has  met  before, 
as  the  servant  of  Carrera;  and  again  fervently  kissing  the 
hem  of  her  garment,  he  arose  and  hurried  away. 

Ton  now  clapped  her  hands,  at  which  signal  a  dark  figure 
emerged  noiselessly  from  the  cottage  and  placed  itself  be 
fore  her,  with  its  head  and  shoulders  bent  low. 

"Call  Santos!"  she  said.  The  dark  figure  disappeared, 
and  immediately  afterward  an  Inflian  woman  knelt  before 
her  Queen. 

"Santos!"  Toa  began,  with  great  solemnity,  "Grand 
daughter  of  Cozopangui,  of  the  noblest  blood  of  our  race ! 
Toa  Duchicela  has  sent,  for  thee  to  bid  thee  an  everlasting 
farewell."  With  these  words  she  gently  placed  her  hands 
on  the  woman's  head,  drew  it  to  her,  and  kissed  her  on 
the  forehead,  while  Santos  broke  into  sobs  and  tears. 

"  Be  quiet,  Mama  Santos  !  Diy  thy  tears  and  compose 
thyself.  Knowest  thou  not  that  thou  must  be  the  custodian 
of  my  revenge.  I  do  not  speak  to  thee  as  thy  sovereign 
now.  It  is  the  woman  Toa  who  speaks  to  the  woman 
Santos.  Toa  speaks  -not  to  her  subject  Santos,  but  to 
Santos  her  friend.  The  revenge  of  my  crushed  heart  I 
have  left  with  thee." 


BOOK   V.      THE   VALUE   OP   LIFE.  355 

"Oh,  speak,  Shyri !"  asked  the  other,  with  the  quickness 
of  burning  zeal.  "  Wilt  thou  let  me  use  the  sharp  dagger 
of  the  Viracochas,  which  I  might  send  with  unerring  cer 
tainty  to  her  cold  heart?" 

"No,  Santos!" 

"  Or  wouldst  thou  let  me  use  the  never-failing  poison 
which  I  have  learned  to  distil  from  plants  and  fruits,  the 
poison  which  leaves  no  mark  or  trace  for  the  eye  of  sus 
picion?" 

"  No,  Santos !  I  told  thee  what  it  shall  be.  Not  death, 
but  life  shall  be  his  punishment.  Death  is  short,  and  then 
all  is  over.  But  there  is  a  life  which  is  worse  than  death, 
and  that  life  shall  be  his.  Use  not  a  knife  of  iron  or  steel, 
but  a  knife  that  enters  the  heart  and  kills  not;  a  knife  that 
wounds  and  stabs  day  after  da}',  j-ear  after  year ;  a  knife 
that  draws  no  blood,  and  yet  causes  intense  suffering.  Let 
it  be  a  poison  that  consumes  not  the  body,  but  the  mind,  a 
poison  which  does  not  cause  death,  but  misery  and  heart 
ache,  a  poison  which  instead  of  giving  rest  takes  it  away. 
A  rankling  wound  in  the  heart,  the  pangs  of  jealousy,  love 
unrequited,  bitter  disappointment,  blasted  expectations, 
vain  regrets,  pride  mortified,  confidence  betrayed,  and  end 
less  humiliation;  such  a  life  as  the  years  roll  on  without 
change,  without  relief,  without  hope,  will  be  a  punishment 
worse  than  a  thousand  deaths.  And  if  he  were  to  live  an 
eternity,  it  would  not  be  revenge  enough  for  the  heart-ache, 
the  misery,  the  disappointment,  the  defeat,  which  he  has 
brought  upon  me  and  my  race.  And  in  order  to  secui'e 
this  punishment  that. wicked  woman  must  live,  Santos! 
Hearest  thou,  Santos!  She  must  live!  Hence,  kill  her 
not,  granddaughter  of  Cozopangui,  but  watch  over  her, 
nurse  her,  protect  her,  until  my  revenge  is  complete." 

"  Eely  on  me,  Shyri !    Thy  commands  shall  be  fulfilled." 

"  Yes,  Santos,  and  fulfill  them  intelligently.  Use  thy 
best  judgment.  Thou  art  of  a  wise  family,  and  thy  grand 
father  was  one  of  the  wisest  men  of  bis  day.  Use  thy  wis- 


356  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

dom  !  Bo  vigilant!  Let  nothing  escape  thy  attention! 
Arm  thyself  with  the  facts  and  circumstances  which  will 
nourish  his  suspicion,  and  use  them  slowly,  cautiously,  but 
continually,  and  with  the  irrepressible  force  of  fate.  And 
now,  Santos,  farewell !  1  must  attend  to  others  before  I  go, 
and  the  hours  are  fleeting.  It  is  my  last  night  in  the  cap 
ital  of  my  fathers,  and,  alas  !  it  will  be  so  short !  " 

"Oh,  gracious  Shyri,  life  of  my  soul,  let  thy  humble  ser 
vant  beg  for  a  last  favor  on  this  side  of  the  grave." 

"  What  is  it,  Santos?" 

"  Let  thy  queenly  lips  once  more  press  my  loyal  fore 
head,  as  they  did  before." 

"  Come  into  my  arms,  Santos!  "  said  the  Queen,  unable 
to  repress  the  bitter  tears  which  had  started  to  her  eyes. 
"  May  the  great  Pachacamac  protect  thee  kindly  until  the 
last !  "  With  these  words,  Toa  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks 
and  dismissed  her. 

The  dark  figure  again  approached  and  said  :  "  Thy  ser 
vant  Uma  is  now  ready  to  receive  thy  parting  commands." 

"  Let  him  come!  " 

"I  have  everything  in  readiness,  Shyri!"  said  Uma. 
"  If  we  succeed,  he  will  be  free  after  midnight.  Shall  I 
bring  him  to  thee  ? 

"  No,  Uma  ;  he  must  not  lose  a  minute.  Take  him  into 
the  mountains,  at  once,  on  thy  way  to  the  coast.  I  have 
provided  thee  with  gold  to  send  him  out  of  this  unhappy 
country,  and  to  protect  him  from  want  for  the  rest  of  his 
days.  Tell  him  that  Toa  Duchicela  will  never  forget  him, 
and  that  of  all  the  Yiracochas  on  earth,  he  is  the  only  one 
whom  she  will  ever  hold  in  grateful  Remembrance.  Tell 
him  that  his  mother  and  child  will  not  be  abandoned  or 
forgotten.  Tell  him  that  he  has  wronged  the  woman  Mer 
cedes,  who  is  innocent  of  his  betrayal.  Tell  him  that  the 
Sun  and  the  Moon  will  ever  hear  my  prayers  for  his  hap 
piness." 

"  I  shall,  Shyri !     flualpa  shall  bring  the  tidings  of  our 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE   OF    LIFE.  357 

success.  If  we  fail,  I  shall  myself  be  the  bearer  of  the 
news." 

"  Go  with  him  to  the  coast.  Leave  him  not  until  he  is 
safe,  and  when  thou  hast  accomplished  thy  task,  join  me 
on  the  banks  of  the  Napo,  if  thou  wilt  still  link  thy  for 
tunes  to  mine.  But  if  thou  wilt  no  longer  follow  the 
fading  star,  the  waning  emerald,  thou  art  free,  Uma,  to  go 
whithersoever  thy  heart  may  tempt  thee,  and  so  much  of 
my  treasures  as  thy  future  wants  shall  require,  shall  be 
thine." 

"Where  Toa  Duchicela  is,"  answered  Uma  slowly  and 
in  measured  tones,  "there  Uma  will  be.  He  will  follow 
in  her  path.  He  will  wander  where  she  wanders  ;  he  will 
tarry  where  she  tarries;  and  wherever  she  sleepeth,  there 
will  he  wake  and  watch  !  " 

"  I  thank  thee,  Uma !  1  knew  thou  wouldst  be  faithful 
to  the  last.  Thy  house  and  our  house  have  stood  together 
in  the  days  of  their  greatness  and  prosperity.  Their  de 
scendants  will  be  together  in  exile  and  adversity.  Fare 
well,  Uma;  we  shall  meet  again." 

"  If  I  live,  Shyri,  I  shall  soon  be  with  thee  !  " 

With  these  words  he  departed,  calm,  dignified  and  im 
perturbable  as  ever.  Toa  looked  after  him  until  his  form 
had  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Then  she  rested  her 
elbow  on  her  knee  and  her  head  on  her  hand,  and  sank 
into  gloomy  meditation.  A  darkness  blacker  than  that  of 
the  starless  night  had  settled  upon  her  soul.  "  Thousands 
of  hearts,"  she  sighed,  "will  cling  to  me,  and  yet  I  am 
nothing  to  them  but  a  powerless,  shadowy  Queen,  who  de 
mands  services  and  accepts  sacrifices  ;  thousands  of  these 
unfortunates  would  follow  me  through  poverty  and  misery 
to  an  untimely  death  ;  yet  he,  the  one  for  whose  love  I 
yearned,  the  man  upon  whom  I  should  have  showered 
greatness,  renown,  and  prosperity,  has  turned  away  from 
me.  Those  to  whom  I  give  nothing  will  die  for  me  ;  he  to 


358  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

whom  I  should  have  given  everything  will  not  even  live 
for  me." 

"  It  is  a  just  punishment,  Shyri  Toa,"  said  a  voice  at  her 
side. 

"  Punishment  ?     For  what,  Prince  Cundurazu  ?  " 

"  For  the  levity  and  thoughtless  selfishness  with  which 
thou  didst  subordinate  thy  sacred  mission  to  the  petty  fan 
cies  and  desires  of  a  woman's  heart." 

"  Cnndurazu  "  — 

"  Raise  not  thy  voice  in  anger,  for  I  will  speak,  and  thou 
shalt  hear  me  in  spite  of  thy  frowns.  My  days  are  num 
bered  on  earth.  I  can  not  follow  thee  to  the  land  of  the 
savage.  What  little  strength  there  is  left  to  me  I  shall 
fully  need  to  carry  back  this  worn-out  body  to  Purruha, 
the  land  of  my  fathers.  There  where  thy  ancestors  lived 
and  died  as  well  as  mine,  in  the  recesses  of  the  mountain 
whose  name  I  bear,  my  bones  shall  bleach.  There,  among 
inaccessible  crags,  never  to  be  polluted  by  the  invader's 
tread,  this  weary  wanderer  shall  sleep  the  last  sleep  undis 
turbed  by  the  dream  and  hope  of  my  long  life,  that  glori 
ous  hope  which  thou  hast  wrecked." 


"Yes,  thou,  Shyri  Toa,  thou!  It  is  hard  to  bear  the 
burden  of  defeat;  but  defeat  self-inflicted,  misery  of  one's 
own  creation,  failure  by  one's  own  dereliction,  is  the  most 
galling  of  all  defeats,  miseries,  and  failures.  I  can  not 
spare  thee  this  misery,  Shyri  Toa.  Thou  hast  sacrificed 
the  cause  of  thy  race,  and  I  must  hold  up  a  mirror  to  thy 
soul  in  order  to  let  thee  see  what  thou  hast  done." 

Toa  hung  her  head  and  said  nothing. 

"  Have  I  thy  permission  to  proceed,  daughter  of  Autachi, 
whom  I  saved  from  the  bloody  fangs  of  Kummagui  —  of 
Autachi,  whom  I  hid  and  nursed  and  brought  up  to  be  thy 
father,  Toa  Duchicela?" 

"Thou  hast!  I  am  a  woman.  I  am  heart-broken  and 
crushed,  Cunduruzu!  Proceed,  then,  and  add  what  thou 


BOOK   V.      THE    VALUE   OP    LIFE.  359 

canst  to  the  load  of  misery  and  disappointment  by  which 
I  am  oppressed." 

"  I  can  not  spare  thee  for  the  wrong  thou  hast  done  to  thy 
race.  After  thou  hadst  agreed  to  the  great  plan  of  Collo- 
huaso  and  myself,  thou  shouldst  have  carried  it  out  in 
earnest.  Thou  shouldst  not  have  thrown  thyself  awa%r  on 
the  first  pretty  face  that  struck  thy  fancy.  A  man  of  iron 
thou  necdedst,  but  a  toy  of  wax  captured  th}'  idle  fancy. 
Thou  shouldst  have  consulted  the  welfare  of  thy  race,  the 
purposes  of  thy  royal  mission,  and  not  the  untried  predi 
lections  of  an  inexperienced  female  heart.  Thy  choice  fell 
on  the  weakest,  instead  of  the  strongest,  the  ficklest,  instead 
of  the  steadiest  of  the  Viracochas.  Instead  of  choosing 
wisely,  thou  didst  not  choose  at  all.  There  were  hundreds 
among  whom  tbou  mightst  have  chosen  and  who  would 
have  died  for  the  glory,  the  honor,  and  the  wealth  thy  hand 
might  have  bestowed.  Why  didst  thou  not  winnow  and 
separate  the  chaff  from  the  grain?  Why  didst  thou  not 
test  the  metal  of  the  man  and  approve  him  worthy  of  thy 
cause  and  favor,  before,  like  a  heedless  girl,  thou  threwest 
the  treasure  of  thy  love  at  the  feet  of  a  fool,  who  would  not 
stoop  to  pick  it  up  ?" 

"It  is  cruel,  Cundurazu.  to  upbraid  me  with  the  mistake 
I  have  made.  Have  I  not  suffered  for  it?  And  would  I 
not  have  rectified  it,  if  the  gods  had  granted  the  opportu 
nity? 

"No,  Toa  Duchicela!  Blame  not  the  gods  for  the  crime 
which  lies  at  thine  own  door.  Thou  hadst  the  opportunity. 
The  gods  had  kindly  granted  it;  but  thou,  Toa  Ducbicela, 
unworthy  granddaughter  of  Atahualpa,  unworthy  daughter 
of  Autachi,  wantonly  threwest  it  away.  The  glorious  op 
portunity  was  sacrificed,  discarded,  trampled  upon  by  thce. 
The  gods  had  sent  the  man  of  iron  to  the  relief  of  our 
sinking  cause.  There  was  victory  in  his  hand  and  loyalty 
in  his  heart.  He  came,  and  our  despair  was  changed  into 
gladness — the  certainty  of  defeat  into  the  certainty  of  vie- 


360  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

tory.  Hadst  thou  but  let  him  alone  !  But  no !  Thy  heed 
less,  reckless,  shameless  interference,  destroyed  our  last 
hope.  Thou  didst  take  it  upon  thyself  to  arrest  his  uplifted 
hand.  He  would  have  crushed  the  viper  before  it  stung 
his  unarmed  heel,  and  laid  him  low,  but  for  thy  unwar 
ranted  interference.  What  made  thee  send  that  fatal 
warning  to  Manuel  Paredes,  the  enemy  of  our  race?  But 
for  this  warning,  that  traitor  would  have  died,  and  our 
noble  Viracocha  friend  would  have  captured  the  chief  of 
the  foreigners,  and,  with  one  glorious  blow,  forever  set  us 
free.  Thy  interference  shielded  the  traitor  and  sacrificed 
our  deliverer.  Hence,  blame  not  the  gods,  Toa  Duchicela; 
blame  not  the  Sun  and  the  Moon  for  thine  own  crime.  It 
is  thou  that  hast  betrayed  us  ;  it  is  thou  that  hast  sacrificed 
us,  and  upon  thy  guilty,  giddy,  self-indulgent  head,  be  the 
curse  of  our  race." 

Toa  remained  silent,  stunned  and  crushed. 

"I  know  why  thou  didst  commit  this  reckless  crime.  I 
can  read  thy  shallow  heart,  and  discern  the  motive  of  thy 
wanton  act.  It  was  revenge  on  thy  fickle  and  faithless 
lover,  which  seemed  to  thee  more  important  than  the 
success  of  our  great  cause.  Millions  had  to  be  sacrificed 
in  order  to  punish  one  whose  whole  guilt  was  but  thy  own 
folly.  The  brave  men  whom  thou  hast  doomed  to  the 
scaffold,  the  friends  thou  hast  abandoned,  thy  own  race 
and  kingly  office,  which  thou  hast  trifled  away,  will  rise 
against  thee,  darkening  the  Sun  with  sorrow  and  drawing 
tears  from  the  loving  Moon.  No  woman  on  earth  has  ever 
sacrificed  so  much  to  gain  so  little — a  lover's  punishment, 
for  which  a  knife,  a  dagger,  a  stone,  might  have  sufficed." 

A  flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  scene  for  a  moment,  and 
discovered  Toa's  face  bathed  in  tears.  .Rolling  thunder, 
reverberating  from  the  mountains  and  culminating  in  a 
terrible  clap,  interrupted  the  fierce  eloquence  of  Curidu- 
i'azu.  The  old  man's  wrath  has  exhausted  itself,  and  he 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OP    LIFE.  361 

sank  into   silent  contemplation,  and  all  was  stillness  and 
darkness  again. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    COYA    CISA. 

TOA  arose  at  last  and  walked  into  the  hut,  without  say 
ing  a  word.  Cundurazu  followed  her.  We  are  familiar 
with  the  interior  of  the  cottage.  Nothing  had  changed 
since  our  last  visit.  A  curtain  suspended  across  its  only 
room  still  divided  it  in  two  compartments.  The  kettle 
with  the  Samarucu  was  still  boiling  over  a  fire  of  aromatic 
woods.  Mama  Rucu  sat  before  it,  stirring  the  precious 
liquid  as  of  old,  and  filling  the  calabash  from  which  she 
drank.  Her  back  was  turned  to  the  door,  as  usual,  yet 
she  knew  who  had  entered. 

"Granddaughter,"  she  said,  without  turning  round, 
"  the  great  Sun  be  praised  !  I  am  once  more  under  the  in 
fluence  of  the  divine  potion.  For  weeks  and  weeks  it  had 
lost  its  effect  upon  me.  I  feared  I  should  die  without  a 
last  taste  of  its  blessings.  But  now  it  has  come  again. 
The  veil  is  rent  once  more  ;  the  dim  mists  are  lifted  be 
fore  me,  and  by  the  clear  light  of  our  Great  Father,  the 
Sun,  I  see  as  of  old.  The  future  is  again  clear  to  me. 
What  the  next  hours,  the  next  years,  will  bring  I  see  it 
all.  I  see  it  all." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  during  which  Mama 
iiucu  took  another  draught  of  the  charmed  liquid. 

"Granddaughter,"  she  resumed,  after  a  while,  "and 
thou,  Cundurazu,  the  best,  the  truest,  the  only  friend  I 
have  had,  the  Coya  Cisa,  the  widow  of  Atahualpa,  the 
mother  of  Autachi,  the  prophetess,  whom  our  conquerors 
call  Mama  Rucu,  has  but  six  hours  to  live.  Her  long, 
weary  pilgrimage  at  last  approaches  its  end.  She  will  go 


362  THE    SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

to  her  eternal  resting-place  by  the  side  of  her  son  Autaehi, 
in  the  cave  of  Pichincha,  the  mountain  which  has  shel 
tered  her  for  the  last  sixty  years.  Six  short  hours  and 
the  Coya  Cisa  will  be  no  more." 

A  deep  sigh  from  Cundurazu  responded  to  her  sad  an 
nouncement. 

"In  twelve  hours  from  now  the  soldiers  of  the  foreigner 
will  appear  at  this  cottage  to  seize  Mama  Rueu  and  drug 
her  before  the  tribunal  of  our  oppressors.  They  will  not 
find  her.  They  will  be  balked  of  their  prey.  Death  will 
be  kinder  to  Coya  Cisa  than  the  oppressors  of  her  race. 
Six  hours  are  left  to  me  on  earth.  Great  Pachacamac!  I 
praise  thy  kindness.  Thou  hast  given  me  a  life  longer 
than  that  of  thousands,  and  thou  givest  me  six  hours  of 
preparation  when  I  needed  but  one.  Prince  Cundurazu, 
Great  Curaca  of  Purruha,  listen  to  the  dying  words  of 
Cisa." 

"Coya!     I  am  listening." 

"  I  see  them  again  before  me — the  happy  days  of  my 
early  youth.  I  see  the  blooming  child  once  more  whom 
they  called  Cisa.  Is  it  possible  that  these  pretty  features 
should  wither  and  harden,  that  the  long  and  smooth  black 
hair  should  turn  grizzly  and  white,  that  these  smiling  eyes 
should  change  into  fiercely  rolling  orbs  of  fire?  Ah,  but 
this  dreadful  change  is  only  a  picture  of  the  more  dreadful 
change  which  has  come  to  our  race.  Our  costly  garments 
of  alpaca  have  changed  into  beggarly  rags  ;  the  golden 
ornaments  of  our  nobles  into  iron  chains  ;  our  palaces  into 
prisons  ;  our  temples  into  the  tombs  of  our  happiness  ;  our 
free-born  children  into  beasts  of  burden  ;  our  warriors  into 
slaves.  The  great  men  of  our  land  are  gone,  all  gone, 
with  but  one  last  exception — Prince  Cundurazu,  Curaca  of 
Purruha  " — 

"  Who  will  soon  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  betters." 

"  Curaca  of  Purruha  !  Do  I  recognize  thy  noble  features 
in  that  shrivelled  and  care-worn  face,  the  features  that 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OP    LIEF.  363 

first  awoke  the  delicious  sentiment  of  love  in  this  now 
stony  breast?  Where  is  the  heart  that  once  beat  so  wildly 
at  thy  approach  ?  It  is  here — it  beats  faintly,  faintly;  it 
will  soon  have  ceased  to  beat." 

Toa  threw  herself  on  a  low  stool  near  the  door  and  bur 
ied  her  face  it  her  hands.  Cundurazu  stood  motionless 
with  his  white  head  hung  upon  his  breast. 

"  For  all  thy  love,  Curaca,  I  thank  thee.  There  was  a 
time  when  we  dreamed  of  happiness.  It  was  a  dream 
never  verified — a  hope  never  realized — a  beautiful  sunbeam 
on  the  icy  paramo,  a  sunbeam  that  soen  died  away  in 
mists,  'clouds,  tempests,  and  snow.  Alas,  the  day  of  our 
hope  was  so  short,  and  the  night  of  our  misery  was  so  long. 
To  thee,  Curaca,  I  once  hoped  to  belong ;  but  our  dread 
Inca,  the  ill-fated  son  of  the  unfortunate  Pacha,  willed  it 
otherwise.  .The  Coya  Cisa  found  favor  in  his  blood-shot 
eyes;  the  Inca  took  me  to  his  royal  bed.  Great  was  the 
honor  he  conferred  on  me ;  but  I  paid  for  it  with  a  broken 
heart.  And  thou,  noble  Curaca,  never  ceasedst  to  love  me 
and  to  mourn  for  what  thou  hadst  lost.  And  when  Kumi- 
liagui,  the  villain,  the  tyrant,  the  usurper,  was  bent  on  my 
death  because  I  cai'ried  an  heir  to  Atahualpa  under  my 
heart,  it  was  thou,  Curaca,  to  whom  I  owed  my  rescue  and 
deliverance.  To  thee  I  owed  my  life  and  that  of  Autachi, 
my  son.  Once  more,  Curaca,  I' thank  tbee.  I  was  a  loyal 
wife  to  Atahualpa,  the  father  of  my  royal  child;  but  my 
heart  remained  faithful  to  thee,  until  the  childish  love  for 
one  man  expanded  to  that  great  loving  compassion  for  our 
groaning  and  bleeding  race.  But  now,  as  I  stand  upon  the 
brink  of  death,  the  old  tenderness  steals  back  into  this  dy 
ing  bosom.  I  shall  ask  thee  a  last  favor,  Cundurazu." 

"  Speak,  Coya." 

"  Thy  hand  has  rescued  me  from  death  and  given  me  a 
life  of  almost  endless  years.  Let  thy  hand  restore  me  to 
the  silence  of  death,  from  which  it  snatched  me  sixty  years 
ago." 


364  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Goya?" 

"Thou  shalt  put  me  into  my  mountain-chair.  Thy 
faithful  hand  shall  help  to  carry  me  to  the  cave  of  Pichin- 
cha.  It  shall  place  me  on  my  last  seat  by  the  side  of 
Autachi,  my  son.  And  when  I  have  ceased  to  breathe,  thy 
hand  shall  rest  on  my  silent  head,  while  thy  lips  utter  the 
greafprayer  for  the  scions  of  the  royal  house  of  the  Shyris. 
Doest  thou  remember  the  words  of  the  prayer,  Curaca  of 
Purruha  ?" 

"  I  do,  Coya." 

"  Then  speak  them  for  me  when  I  am  dead,  and  perform 
my  funeral  rites  in  the  cave  of  Autachi.  And  now.  thou 
must  not  harden  thy  heart  in  anger  against  the  Shyri  Toa. 
Thou  hast  done  her  injustice.  Eemember  that  it  was  our 
plan  we  persuaded  her  to  adopt,  not  hers.  It  may  be,  after 
all,  that  I  was  mistaken  in  the  interpretation  of  my  visions- 
Now  that  the  veil  is  again  lifted,  now  that  I  can  see 
more  clearly  than  ever  before,  1  am  almost  convinced  that 
I  was  mistaken.  See,  Cundurazu,  I  dreamt  of  the  union 
of  two  races,  as  in  the  days  of  the  first  Toa,  the  daughter 
of  the  last  Shyri  and  of  Duchieela,  of  Purrulua.  Toa  was 
to  represent  our  race — a  friendly  Viracocha,  the  race  of  our 
conquerors.  This  was  my  mistake,  not  hers.  Not  by  a 
union  with  a  Viracocha,  but  by  a  union  with  one  of  the 
powerful  chiefs  in  the  country  of  the  dense  forests  and  the 
great  rivers,  where  the  Samarucu  grows,  my  vision  will 
be  fulfilled.  That  union  will  give  freedom  to  the  In 
dian  in  the  country  of  the  rising  sun  beyond  you  moun 
tain-range.  There  we  shall  be  avenged  on  our  oppressors. 
The  rivers  will  run  red  with  the  blood  of  their  men.  The 
forests  will  resound  with  the  shrieks  of  their  women.  The 
puma  will  crush  the  bones  of  their  children.  Their  cities 
will  be  wiped  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  nights  will 
be  ablaze  with  the  flames  of  their  burning  habitations.  A 
great  Indian  confederation  of  freemen  will  accomplish  this 
work  of  deliverance,  and  Toa  will  be  their  Queen." 


BOOK   V.      THE   VALUE   OP    LIPB.  3G5 

"  To   reign    over  worthless   tribes   of  naked    savages !" 
sneered  Cundurazu.     '•  What  is  that  to  me  ?     What  is  it  to 
the  suffering  children  of  Purrului,  to  the  bleeding  sons  of 
Quito,  to  the  enslaved  nations  of  Otabalo   and   Caranqui  ? 
The  savages  beyond  the  mountain  range  are  nothing  to  us. 
Their  freedom  will  not  lighten  our  hardships.     Their  inde 
pendence  will  not  break  our  chains.     They  are  strangers 
to  us,  strangers  in   blood,  in  customs,  and   in   allegiance. 
They  never  were  united  to  us  in  bonds  of  common  interest 
and  fellowship.     Divided  from   us  by  almost  impassable 
mountains  and  deserts,  they  never  partook  of  the  blessings 
of  our  civilization.     Savages  they  were,  and  savages  they 
will  remain,  and  Toa  will  be  a  Queen  of  naked  barbarians, 
while  she  might  have  reigned  over  the  land  of  her  fathers, 
and  over  the  descendants    of  our   Viracocha   conquerors, 
breaking  tl>e  fetters  and  righting  the  wrongs  of  our  race. 
What  can  those  savages  ever  be  to  her?     Her  palace  will 
be  the  four  poles  of  a  hut  with  a  roof  of  palm-leaves.     A 
hammock  of  twine  will  be  her  throne.     Her  garden  will 
be  the  steaming  forest  with  its  serpents,  wild  beasts,  and 
fevers.     Her  allies   will    be   men  who  feast  upon    human 
flesh,  and  paint  their  unsightly  faces  and  forms.     She  will 
be  a  stranger  among  strangers,  who  can  be  nothing  to  her 
polished  mind.     Separated  from  all  the  surroundings  that 
were  dear  to  her,  she  will  pine  away  in  the  wilderness  by 
the  side  of  a  brute,  who  will  soon  discard  her;  she  will  die 
without  honor,  without  glory,  without  benefit  to  herself 
and  her  own  people,  with  the  gnawing  consciousness  of 
what  might  have  been,  with  that  everlasting  and  regretful 
remembrance  of  what  she  has  thrown  away." 

"It  is  well,  Cundurazu,"  now  interrupted  Toa,  rising 
from  her  stool  with  all  the  majesty  of  a  Queen.  "  I  shall 
not  embitter  thy  few  remaining  days  on  earth  by  recrim 
inations.  I  was  young,  and  thou  wast  old.  I  was  blinded 
by  love,  and  thou  hadst  eyes.  I  was  without  the  experi 
ence  in  which  thou  aboundedst.  I  was  a  silly,  loving 


366  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

woman,  and  thou  wast  a  wise  old  man.  1  was  a  Queen, 
and  thou  wast  my  councilor.  I  shall  not  reproach  thee, 
Cundurazu.  I  shall  be  more  generous  to  thee  than  thou 
hast  been  to  me.  It  is  true,  I  am  going  among  savages. 
It  is  true,  my  life  will  be  joyless  and  sad,  even  if  I  do 
succeed.  It  is  true,  1  must  bury  the  aspirations,  the 
hopes,  the  dreams  of  my  life,  and  content  myself  with  a 
lot  little  above  that  of  the  animals  of  the  forests  I  shall 
inhabit.  But  has  thy  cold  and  unloving  heart  died  even  to 
the  feelings  of  revenge?  Our  plans — thy  plans — have  failed, 
and  the  past  is  irrevocable.  I  can  not  free  our  people,  but 
I  can  avenge  their  wrongs  upon  so  many  of  their  oppress 
ors.  I  can  not  punish  them  all  for  the  crimes  they  have 
committed  against  us,  but  1  can  punish  thousands  of  them. 
I  am  defeated  and  betrayed,  but  yet  I  may  be  revenged. 
This  revenge,  it  is  true,  means  self-sacrifice ;  but  still  it  is 
revenge.  When  my  aunt,  Carmen  Duchicela,  had  sent  for 
masters  to  Lima,  to  instruct  her  rebellious  niece  in  the 
mysteries  of  the  new  faith,  they  taught  me  the  story  of  an 
ancient  warrior,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten.  He  had 
been  made  a  prisoner  i>y  his  enemies,  who  put  out  his  eyes, 
and  compelled  him  to  play  a  musical  instrument  in  the 
temple  of  a  god  who  was  not  his  God,  to  enliven  their  sac 
rificial  feast.  He  was  a  man  of  almost  inci'edible  strength, 
who  could  work  miracles  by  it.  And  when  thousands  of 
his  enemies  had  assembled  in  the  temple  and  on  the  roof 
of  it,  he  seized  the  two  pillars  on  which  the  edifice  rested, 
and  by  the  wondrous  strength  of  his  arms,  broke  them 
down  and  buried  himself  and  his  tormentors.  Secst  thou, 
Cundurazu  !  such  will  be  my  revenge.  I  am  broken,  and 
my  life  is  hopeless,  like  that  of  the  blind  Hebrew  warrior 
in  the  story.  What  is  life  to  me  now?  But  I  can  bring 
down  the  roof  of  the  temple  upon  thousands  of  my  enemies. 
What  if  I  do  perish — it  will  be  in  a  glorious  blaze  of  re 
venge." 

"And,  after  all,"  she  continued,  after  a  pause,  during 


BOOK   V.      THE   VALUE   OF    LIFE.  3G7 

which  nothing  was  heard  but  the  bubbli  ng  of  the  water  in 
llama  Bucu's  caldron,  "  thou,  Prince  Cundurazu,  wantedst 
me  to  be  a  Queen.  To  that  purpose  thou  hadst  trained  and 
shaped  my  mind  ever  since  my  childhood.  Thy  wish  shall 
be  fulfilled.  I  shall  be  a  Queen.  And  if  I  can  not  rule 
over  our  own  race  and  the  Viracochas  of  our  land,  I  shall 
rule  over  painted  savages.  The  Zaparos  and  Jivaros  are 
not  entire  strangers  to  our  royal  house.  My  great-grand 
father  conquered  them.  My  grandfather  kept  them  in 
obedience.  The  descendants  of  our  mitimaes*  are  still 
among  them.  My  reign  may  not  be  one  of  glory  or  great 
ness;  it  will  not  fulfill  the  great  dream  and  purpose  of  my 
life  ;  but  1  shall  be  a  Queen,  which  is  better  than  to  be  a 
wanderer  without  a  home,  or  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the 
Spaniards." 

With  these  words,  she  walked  to  the  fire,  snatched  a 
brand  from  it,  and  lit  a  taper,  which  stood  on  the  table. 
She  then  disappeared  behind  the  curtain,  where  she  re 
mained  for  the  next  fifteen  minutes.  Cundurazu  took  the 
seat  which  she  had  left,  covered  his  head  with  his  capisayo, 
and  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  was  soon  lost  in  medita 
tion.  Mama  Kucu,  in  the  meantime,  proceeded,  with  calm 
composure,  with  the  preparations  for  the  journey  to  her 
eternal  resting-place.  A  large  earthen  jar,  with  a  long 
neck  of  Indian  workmanship,  stood  by  the  side  of  her  fire, 
arid  into  this  vessel  she  slowly  and  carefully  poured  the 
liquid  from  the  caldron,  using  her  calabash  instead  of  a 
ladle,  and  sipping  from  it  from  time  to  time.  When  the 
kettle  had  been  emptied,  she  blew  a  little  silver  whistle, 
which  hung  from  a  string  around  her  neck.  The  Fool, 
whom  our  readers  will  remember,  answered  her  call. 

"  Take  this  kettle  away,  and  give  it  to  Mama  Guantu,  to 
keep  it  for  my  sake.  Take  it  away  and  come  back." 

The  Fool  left,  with*  a  puzzled  expression,  and  the  old 

*  Colonists. 


368  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

woman  stirred  the  fire  and  then  arose ;  but  her  strength 
gave  way,  and  she  fell  back  on  her  stool. 

"  My  strength  is  going  fast,"  she  muttered.  "  My  limbs 
refuse  to  obey  my  head  ;  and  yet  this  head,"  she  added, 
striking  her  forehead,  "  is  so  clear,  so  clear  !" 

The  Fool  returned. 

"  Take  these  herbs,  man,  and  throw  them  on  the  fire  I" 

The  Fool  looked  at  her  in  hesitation  and  amazement. 

"  Do  as  I  tell  thee.  Nobody  could  use  them  to  advantage 
after  I  am  gone.  And  it  is  better  our  children  should  not 
know  the  future,  than  to  behold  the  misery  of  centuries 
which  is  before  them." 

"  But,  Coya,  how  canst  thou  do  without  the  Samarucu  ?  " 

"  Look  at  this  jar.     It  is  full.     It  will  do  me  for  ages." 

"  The  vessel  of  the  dead  ?" 

"  It  is  filled  and  prepared.  Thou  shalt  carry  it  to  my 
tola* 

The  Fool  burst  into  tears. 

"No  childishness,  mun  !  I  have  lived  long  enough.  Do 
as  I  tell  thee  !" 

Sobbing  and  moaning,  the  Fool  took  bundle  after  bundle 
of  the  dried  herbs  piled  up  along  the  wall,  and  threw  them 
on  the  fire.  With  a  sudden  flash,  tke  flames  leaped  up  and 
strangely  illumined  the  cottage,  throwing  ghastly  shades 
on  the  features  of  the  living  mummy  who  had  ordered  this 
holocaust. 

Toa  now  reappeared  from  behind  the  curtain. 

"And  our  patient,  Grandmother?  Does  he  require 
nothing  else  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all.    He  will  sleep  until  the  soldiers  come." 

"Is  he  sure  to  recover ?" 

"  He  will  surely  recover.  I  have  steeled  his  system 
against  the  poisons  which  the  Viracocha  medicine- men 
will  give  him."  », 

*  Mound  over  a  tomb. 


BOOK   V.      THE   VALUE   OP   LIFE.  369 

"  Is  he  sure  to  live  ?" 

"  He  is  sure  to  live." 

"  For  years  ?" 

"For  years;  and  I  can  tell  thee  more.  Thou  shalt  see 
him  again." 

Toa  started  in  terror.  "  Grandmother,  what  dost  thou 
mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  what  I  have  said.  Thou  shalt  see  him  and 
speak  to  him  once  more." 

"  Where?" 

"In  the  country  of  the  great  forests  and  rivers,  over 
which  thou  shalt  be  Queen." 

''  And  when  ?" 

"  On  the  day  of  his  death." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TRUE   TO   HIS    FAITH. 

THE  spirit  of  Mama  Eucu  had  fled.  Cundurazu  had 
spoken  the  great  prayer  for  the  departed  of  the  royal 
house,  and  a  band  of  faithful  Indians  had  embalmed  her 
remains  and  placed  them  in  a  chair  of  state  by  the  side  of 
her  son,  Autachi,  with  the  jar  of  Samarucu  on  her  right. 
Toa  had  knelt  in  prayer  and  meditation  before  the  ghastly 
skeleton  of  her  father.  She  had  knelt  before  the  new  throne 
of  death  occupied  by  her  grandmother.  There  was  now 
but  one  direct  lineal  descendant  of  the  house  of  Shyri- 
Duchicela-Inca,  and  that  one  was  about  to  bid  an  everlast 
ing  farewell  to  the  land  of  her  fathers.  And  there  were 
mounds  of  gold  and  silver  piled  up  around  her  in  the  cave 
of  Autachi,  and  she  was  poor  and  miserable  in  the  midst 
of  all  these  riches.  Full  of  love  and  of  hopes,  she  had 
been  here  a  few  short  months  ago  with  the  man  of  her 


370  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

choice,  and  now,  alas  !  her  heart  was  broken,  and  life  was 
a  bleak  waste  of  despair. 

When  everything  was  finished,  the  funeral  party  left  the 
cave  as  silently  as  they  had  entered  it.  The  day  had  begun 
to  dawn,  as  they  emerged  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The 
darkness  of  a  tempestuous  night  had  given  away  to  a 
cheerless  morn— 

"  Man  has  another  day  to  swell  the  past, 
And  bring  him  near  to  little  hut  his  last." 

They  had  reached  the  place  where  the  water  of  the 
mountain -stream  could  be  turned  off  in  order  to  facilitate 
the  passage  of  a  ravine  through  which  the  cave  had  to  be 
reached.  Toa  swung  herself  on  a  protruding  rock,  and, 
leaping  from  stone  to  stone,  followed  the  course  of  the  ra 
vine  upward  for  a  short  distance,  and  then  stopped,  intently 
examining  a  rock  against  which  the  water  dashed  with 
great  violence.  Cundurazu  followed  her,  in  strange  be 
wilderment,  and  watched  her  closely  with  an  expression  of 
mingled  surprise  and  suspicion. 

"  If  I  order  this  rock  to  be  removed,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause,  "  the  water  will  make  itself  a  new  bed.  and  wash 
away  the  entrances  to  the  cave  of  Autachi,  which  would 
then  be  closed  up  forever." 

"And  why  should  it  be  closed  up  forever?" 

"  Why  should  it  not  be  closed  up  forever?  The  hopes 
of  our  house  are  forever  extinguished.  Why  should  a 
royal  tomb  be  maintained,  when  royalty  itself  is  dead  ? 
Who  should  be  buried  here  ?" 

"Thou,  Toa  Duchicela,  when  thou  art  gone.  If  thou 
art  worthy  of  thy  name  and  family,  thou  wilt  make  pro 
vision  to  be  brought  here  and  be  entombed  by  the  side  of 
thy  father  when  thou  art  dead." 

"My  remains  will  need  to  be  disposed  of  according  to 
the  customs  of  the  nation  whose  chief  will  be  my  future 
lord." 

"  But  thou  wilt  have  followers  of  thy  own  race  even  in 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OP    LIFE.  371 

those  forests.  Some  of  them  will  be  left  when  the  time 
has  come  to  bury  Toa  Dnchicela  according  to  the  rites  of 
her  house,  after  bringing  her  back  dead  to  the  country  of 
her  fathers,  over  which,  living,  she  might  have  reigned. 
Thou  talkest  wildry,  Shyri  Toa.  Close  up  the  entrances  to 
the  cave  of  Autachi  ?  It  would  be  sacrilege  !  Hast  thou 
forgotten  that  that  cave  containeth  the  great  treasure  of 
Quito?" 

Toa  uttered  a  contemptuous  laugh.  "  Paltry,  miserable 
gold,  worthless  as  dust  or  ashes.  With  all  these  millions 
1  could  not  buy  liberty  for  my  people  or  happiness  for  my 
own  poor  heart.  Let  that  rubbish  perish  !  Let  it  be 
buried  in  the  womb  of  the  earth  from  which  it  came." 

"  Hadst  thou  thought  less  of  thy  own  selfish  heart,  and 
more  of  the  cause  of  thy  people,  that  treasure  would  have 
done  its  great  work,  and  wrought  innumerable  blessings, 
instead  of  lying  idly  around  the  crumbling  shapes  of 
death." 

"  Wilt  thou  renew  thy  bootless  upbraiding?  I  will  not 
listen  to  it  again.  That  rock  shall  be  removed  !" 

'•  it  shall  not  be  removed ! " 

"And  who  will  hinder  it?" 

"  I,  Cundurazu,  Curaca  of  Purruha,  the  next  in  dignity 
to  thj^self,  Toa  Duchicela — I,  who  will  assume  the  reins  of 
our  secret  government,  and  transmit  it  to  him  whom  I 
shall  deem  worthy  of  it,  in  case  of  thy  death,  thy  abdica 
tion,  or  thy  forfeiture  of  the  throne  by  an  act  of  faithless 
ness  to  the  cause  of  thy  people.  Thou  dost  not  know  me 
yet,  Toa  Duchicela.  This  old  man  may  have  failed  in  the 
great  work  of  his  life.  He  may  be  a  visionary,  as  thy 
aunt  Carmen,  the  apostate's  daughter,  calls  him,  but  he 
clings  to  his  belief  or  vision  with  unremitting  tenacity,  and 
will  worship  even  the  empty  shadow  of  that  belief,  while 
a  drop  of  red  blood  is  left  in  his  shriveling  veins.  This 
treasure  is  the  great  hope  of  our  race." 

"  Has  not  the  Coya  Cisa  foretold  that  centuries  of  hope- 


372  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

less  misery  will  come?     And  did  she  ever  err  in  any  of  her 
predictions  ?  " 

"Ah,  but  there  will  be  a  time,  even  after  the  lapse  of  cen 
turies.  My  love  for  my  race,  is  not  a  love  for  myself  or 
those  whom  I  have  known  on  earth,  i  love  my  race  in  its 
unborn  generations.  To  them,  to  our  remotest  posterity, 
let  this  treasure  be  handed  down.  Two  families  of  this 
province  will  be  the  custodians  of  the  secret,  which  the 
father  will  hand  down  to  his  first-born,  from  generation  to 
generation.  As  the  traditions  of  our  past  greatness  and 
glory,  the  existence  of  this  hidden  treasure  will  be  known 
to  thousands  ;  its  precise  location  will  be  known  to  but  two 
living  beings  at  the  time.  But  two  shall  always  know  it, 
until  the  time  of  deliverance  comes;  and  if  it  never  comes, 
yet  this  treasure  shall  be  held  as  a  secret  trust  for  the  holy 
purpose  of  breaking,  or  at  least  lightening  the  chains  of  our 
people.  If  thou  wilt  not  defend  it  and  protect  it,  Toa 
Duchicela,  I  will.  Thou  must  order  the  murder  of  the  man 
who  saved  thy  grandmother  and  thy  father,  before  thou 
wilt  succeed  in  destroying  the  enti-ances  to  the  cave  of  Au- 
tachi.  Order  my  death,  thou  future  Queen  of  painted  sav 
ages  !  It  is  very  questionable  whether  thy  order  will  be 
obeyed  by  the  men  who  are  now  behind  thee." 

Toa  hung  her  head  in  silence.  At  last  she  broke  into 
tears.  "  Oh,  Cundurazu,  the  most  cruel  of  all  my  friends,' 
hadst  thou  but  let  me  die  when  I  was  a  child.  Would,  I 
had  never  known  thee,  and  thou  hadst  never  haunted  me 
with  that  spectral  phantom  of  a  throne.  The  humblest 
hand-maiden  of  Carmen  Duchicela  is  happier  than  this 
mockery  of  a  Queen.  Oh,  Carmen,  Carmen,  why  did  I  not 
listen  to  thy  voice  of  warning  while  it  was  time  ?  " 

"  Thus  speaketh  a  woman,  in  whom  those  tears  are  natu 
ral,  although  they  are  unworthy  of  a  Shyri  Inca.  Then 
thou  wilt  not  order  the  death  of  Cundurazu  or  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  entrances  of  the  cave?" 

"I  shall  not,  Cundurazu.    Thou  art  right.    Yon  treasure 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OP    LIFE.  373 

belongs  to  that  royalty,  which  I  resign  by  emigration. 
Let  its  secret  be  kept  as  thy  wisdom  shall  direct.  Art  thou 
content?" 

a  I  thank  thee,  Shj-ri  Toa,  for  this  last  favor  to  the  old 
man  who  could  not  bear  to  depart  even  a  hair's  breath  from 
the  belief  of  his  lifetime,  and  the  belief  of  his  fathers.  And 
now  Shyri  Toa,  our  ways  do  separate.  Thou  wilt  go  to  the 
north  and  the  east.  I  shall  return  to  the  south,  the  cradle 
of  my  family.  This  was  our  last  meeting,  Shyri  Toa. 
Farewell ! " 

"And  wilt  thou  thus  turn  thy  face  on  me  forever,  with 
out  a  last  friendly  word  or  token  of  love.  Where  is  thy 
heart,  Curidurazu  ?  Have  I  ceased  to  be  anything  to  thee?" 

"The  Shyri  Toa  was  everything  to  me.  The  woman  Toa 
can  not  be  more  to  me  than  any  other  of  the  noble  women 
of  our  race.  Look  at  yon  snow-peak,  now  kissed  by  the 
first  rays  of  our  great  Sun.  Even  the  kiss  of  the  Sun-God 
does  not  melt  that  everlasting  garment  of  ice  and  snow. 
I  havo  outlived  n^self,  Toa  Duchicela,  and  to  the  common 
feelings  of  the  human  kind,  this  old  heart  has  died — died — 
died." 

And  with  these  words,  the  old  man  walked  away  with 
out  looking  back,  and  was  soon  lost  behind  a  bend  of  the 
mountain. 

Toa  felt  crushed,  deserted,  hopeless,  alone.  With  Cun- 
durazu,  a  part  of  her  past  self  had  gone.  The  glorious 
dream,  which  he  had  instilled  into  her  mind,  had  vanished. 
No  longer  a  Queen,  she  was  but  a  woman  now,  and  it  is  so 
unspeakably  sad  and  wretched  for  a  woman  to  be  alone  in 
the  world,  a  stranger  among  strangers,  with  all  the  yearn 
ings  of  her  heart  disappointed,  with  no  future  to  look  for 
ward,  and  the  past — a  regret. 

And  as  she  looked  down  on  the  city  of  Quito  at  her  feet, 
the  peals  of  Christian  bells  ascended  to  her  lonely  station, 
arousing  her  from  her  lethargy,  and  reminding  her  that 
there  was  no  rest  for  the  fugitive  and  the  wanderer. 


374  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OUT   OF   THE   JAWS   OP   DEATH. 

PAREDES  had  informed  Dolores  of  the  scene  between 
himself  and  Arana.  Dolores  at  once  proceeded  to  patch 
up  a  peace  between  her  friend  and  the  .Royal  Commissioner. 
After  dinner,  on  the  very  day  of  the  disagreement,  she 
began  to  labor  with  the  Count  in  the  interest  of  Manuel 
Paredes.  Her  task  did  not  prove  very  difficult.  The 
merits  of  Paredes  should  not  be  overlooked.  The  confis 
cation  of  the  estates  of  the  Sanchez,  Olmos,  Garcias, 
Perez,  and  other  leaders  of  the  rebellion  would  furnish 
ample  means  of  doing  justice  to  all  the  loyal  servants  of 
the  King.  At  the  same  time  Arana  advised  his  amiable 
hostess  to  urge  upon  her  protege  the  propriety  of  moder 
ation  and  modesty ;  for,  after  all,  he  had  but  performed 
his  duty  to  his  master,  the  King.  It  was  true  he  had  per 
formed  it  fully  and  successfully ;  but  was  he  not  bound  to 
perform  it  to  the  best  of  his  ability?  And  although  the 
King  would  graciously  remember  and  appreciate  such  con 
duct,  a  subject  acquired  no  rights  or  claims  on  his  Majesty 
by  doing  a  duty  properly,  the  omission,  neglect,  or  im 
proper  discharge  of  which  would  be  considered  criminal, 
and  make  the  offender  liable  to  punishment.  The  King 
owed  nothing  to  Manuel  Paredes;  but  if,  in  the  fullness  of 
his  generosity,  he  should  considerately  bestow  rewards  on 
those  who  had  served  him  best,  it  was  his  royal  privilege, 
as  it  would  certainly  be  his  princely  inclination,  to  do  so. 
By  these  rules,  he,  the  Count  Arana,  the  Commissioner  and 
Representative  of  the  King,  would  be  guided  in  the  distri 
bution  of  the  confiscated  encomiendas  and  estates.  He  ad 
mitted  no  debt  to  anybody,  and  he  would  tolerate  no  pre- 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OP    LIFE.  375 

sumption  ;  yet  he  entertained  no  prejudice  or  ill-feeling 
toward  the  Senor  Paredes,  and  if  the  latter  would  leave 
his  cause  in  the  hands  of  his  fair  advocate,  instead  of  re 
sorting  to  personal  reminders  of  most  questionable  pro 
priety,  his  interests  would  be  taken  care  of.  Such  was  the 
language  intended  for,  if  not  directly  addressed  to,  the 
man  whose  unscrupulous  boldness  and  wonderful  skill  had 
either  saved  the  kingdoms  of  Peru  and  Quito  to  the  crown 
of  Spain,  or  at  least  averted  the  dangerous  necessity  of  a 
long  and  costly  war.  He  had  saved  the  lives  of  the  King's 
ministers,  and  delivered  the  master  spirit  of  the  rebellion 
into  the  hands  of  the  King's  representative  ;  and  now  he 
was  told  that  he  had  only  performed  a  duty,  the  non- 
performance  of  which  would  have  been  a  crime.  The 
puppets,  Juan  de  Londono,  Pedro  Guzman  Ponce  de 
Leon,  and  others  whom  he,  Paredes,  had  manipulated  and 
directed,  were  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  commissarial 
favor,  while  he  whose  genius  had  shaped  hopelessness  into 
success  and  triumph  was  coldly  ignored  and  neglected. 

Dolores,  by  order  of  Arana,  had  received  through  her 
father  all  the  Carrera  papers  that  had  been  sent  from 
Lima.  She  had  retired  with  them  to  her  room,  and  read 
the  long  and  glowing  eulogies  in  poetry  and  in  prose  with 
which  the  literati  of  Lima  had  celebrated  his  noble  mar 
tyrdom.  She  also  read  the  assurances  of  the  deep  interest 
which  the  Viceroy  had  taken  in  the  young  gentleman's 
fate,  and  the  announcement  that  Carrera's  heroism  should 
be  recognized  and  rewarded  if  he  lived,  and  immortalized 
if  he  was  dead.  Had  she  caused  his  death  ?  Perhaps  she 
had!  But  had  she  intended  his  death?  Certainly  not. 
Could  she  have  foreseen  that  such  violence  would  be  done 
to  him,  she  would  not  have  acted  as  she  did.  And  yet 
why  not?  Had  it  not  been  her  duty  to  do  so?  At  the 
time  of  the  crisis  she  had  been  acting  under  her  father's 
commission.  "Was  it  not  her  duty,  in  order  to  save  the 
royal  cause,  to  sacrifice  Carrera,  if  it  was  necessary,  as  her 


376  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

own  brother  was  sacrificed,  and  as  she  should  have  sacri 
ficed  herself  if  the  King's  service  had  demanded  it?  The 
slaughter  of  Carrera  was  certainly  to  be  deplored;  and 
who  had  deplored  it  more  profoundly  than  Dolores  So- 
lando?  Many  a  sigh  and  many  a  tear,  especially  in  the 
company  of  others,  had  she  devoted  to  the  memory  of  her 
ill-fated  lover.  But  her  conscience  acquitted  her  of  all 
guilt  in  his  death.  Had  she  profited  by  his  sacrifice? 
Was  she  not  the  heaviest  loser?  No,  Dolores  Solando  had 
nothing  to  reproach  herself  with  in  the  death  of  Carrera, 
by  which  she  had  personally  gained  nothing,  yet  lost  so 
much. 

While  she  was  still  poring  over  the  papers,  a  sudden 
confusion  of  voices  arose  in  and  around  the  house.  The 
plaza  in  front  of  her  window  had  filled  with  people,  who 
crowded  around  the  main  entrance.  Yet  they  were  not 
tumultuous  or  clamorous,  but  spoke  in  subdued  tones,  with 
surprise  and  excited  curiosity  depicted  on  every  face. 

Dolores  arose  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  excitement, 
when  Aunt  Catita  burst  into  the  room. 

"Oh,  Doloritas !  Doloritas!"  exclaimed  that  lady,  gasp 
ing  for  breath. 

"What  is  it,  Auntie,  dear?  What  makes  you  look  so 
pale  and  excited  ?" 

"Doloritas,  they  have  found  him  !  They  have  brought 
him  into  the  house!"  WTith  these  words  Dona  Catita  sank 
into  a  chair. 

"  Whom?"  exclaimed  Dolores,  while  her  heart  began  to 
palpitate. 

"Oh,  how  haggard  and  wan  he  looks!  It  is  pitiful  to 
see  him." 

"  But  3'ou  have  not  told  me  who  it  is.     Is  it  Carrera?" 

"  Of  course  it  is  Carrera,  risen  from  the  dead,  and  the 
very  picture  of  death." 

Dolores  stood  thunderstruck.  For  an  instant  her  usual 
presence  of  mind  seemed  to  have  deserted  her. 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  377 

"The  soldiers,"  continued  Aunt  Catita,  "who  had  been 
sent  to  arrest  Mama  Rucu,  found  him  in  her  cottage. 
There  he  lay  in  a  dark  place  behind  a  curtain,  weak  and 
insensible,  and  O  !  so  thin  and  emaciated  ;  he  looks  almost 
like  a  skeleton." 

"  And  Mama  Rucu?"  asked  Dolores,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Could  not  be  found  anywhere.  They  searched  the 
mountain,  far  and  near,  but  she  was  gone." 

"Where  is  Carrera?" 

"  Still  in  the  doorway.  They  brought  him  in  on  a  rough 
board  covered  with  sheep-skins,  and  now  they  do  not 
know  what  to  do  with  him.  Count  Arana  has  gone  out ; 
the  Marquis  is  not  at  home ;  Carrera's  house  is  closed  up, 
and  without  comforts  or  attendance,  and  so  nobody  knew 
what  should  be  done,  and  this  is  the  reason  why  I  flew  up 
stairs  to  hear  your  opinion,  Doloritas." 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  to  be  done  under  the  circum 
stances,"  said  Dolores  with  decision  ;  "  he  must  be  brought 
upstairs  and  placed  in  the  best  room  that  we  can  give  him. 
Our  house  is  very  crowded  now,  but  I  shall  give  him  my 
own  room  as  long  as  his  condition  demands  it.  You  will 
allow  me  to  share  your  room  in  the  meantime?  Let  it  be 
done  at  once,  Auntie." 

"  But  your  father,  Dolores,  what  will  he  say  to  this?" 

"  He  will  be  delighted  with  it,  I  assure  you.  Let  us  lose 
no  time  where  a  human  life  may  be  at  stake;"  and  thus 
saying,  Dolores  snatched  up  her  shawl  and  rushed  down 
stairs,  followed  by  her  aunt. 

The  soldiers  had  formed  a  barrier  to  keep  back  the  mul 
titude,  which  was  pressing  against  the  main  entrance.  A 
part  of  the  rabble  had  pushed  themselves  in  during  the 
first  rush,  and  filled  tho  doorway  and  the  lower  part  of 
the  staircase,  in  order  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  what  was 
going  on.  The  officers  were  just  driving  them  out  into 
the  court-yard  when  Dolores  came  down.  Another 
woman  had  quietly  preceded  her,  and  knelt  at  the  head 


378  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

of  the  stretcher  on  which  Carrera  lay,  holding  up  his  head 
and  arranging  his  covering.  It  was  Mama  Santos.  The 
Fool,  with  his  hands  tied  upon  his  back,  stood  between 
two  soldiers  who  had  him  in  charge.  lie  looked  the 
very  picture  of  discomfiture  and  wretchedness. 

Carrera's  wounds  had  healed,  but  his  shattered  nerves 
had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  terrible  shock  on  the 
day  of  the  riot.  His  mind  was  still  wandering.  He  had 
been  delirious  for  weeks  and  months,  after  having  been 
brought  to  Mama  Eucu's  cottage.  Even  after  the  fever 
had  subsided,  his  consciousness  returned  only  rarely  and 
for  short  intervals,  after  which  he  relapsed  into  a  sleep  or 
torpor,  which  was  diligently  nursed  by  Mama  Eticu's  po 
tions.  What  he  saw  or  heard  during  his  lucid  intervals 
became  irretrievably  blended  in  his  mind  with  his  feverish 
dreams  and  the  visions  produced  by  the  samarucu  and 
other  decoctions  with  which  the  Indian  prophetess  kept 
him  alive.  His  eyes  were  open  as  Dolores  approached 
him,  but  they  rested  on  the  Fool  with  a  queer  expression 
of  astonishment  and  solicitude. 

"Seiior  de  Carrera — Don  Julio!"  exclaimed  Dolores, 
kneeling  at  his  side.  u  The  Holy  Virgin  be  praised  that 
you  are  alive  and  with  us!" 

Carrera's  eyes  wandered  toward  her,  but  expressed  no 
recognition.  He  stared  at  her  for  a  moment,  after  which 
his  looks  sought  out  the  Fool  again. 

"  Do  you  know  me,  Don  Julio  ?  Dolores  Solando — have 
you  forgotten  her?" 

There  was  no  answer,  no  ray  of  intellect  in  that  pale  and 
haggard  face,  shadowed  over  by  long  and  tangled  hair, 
and  covered  with  a  shaggy  beard  of  disordered  and  irreg 
ular  growth. 

"  He  does  not  recognize  me,  the  poor  darling  !  His  mind 
is  wandering.  Have  him  taken  up  stairs  at  once,  Seilor 
Eamirez  !  Let  him  be  carried  to  my  room,  which  I  have 
given  up  to  him  until  his  condition  shall  allow  his  removal." 


BOOK    V.       THE   VALUE    OP    LIFE.  379 

Carrera's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  uneasiness  as 
they  lifted  him  up.  But  when  they  started  to  carry  him 
away,  he  uttered  a  piteous  cry.  His  carriers  halted,  and 
Dolores  bent  over  him,  endeavoring  to  ascertain  what  had 
pained  him.  He  returned  no  answer  to  her  question,  but 
when  his  carriers  again  attempted  to  move  on,  he  anxiously 
raised  his  head  and  stretched  out  his  right  hand  in  the  direc 
tion  where  the  Fool  stood,  accompanying  this  gesture  with  a 
low  moan.  None  of  the  bystanders  could  divine  the  cause  of 
his  agitation. 

"  He  seems  to  bo  delirious,"  said  Dolores  after  a  pause. 
"Take  him  up  stairs  where  he  can  be  comfortable."  But, 
as  they  carried  him  away,  he  uttered  another  cry,  and  then 
fell  back  insensible. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DOUBTS    AND   DIFFICULTIES. 

SINCE  the  events  narrated  in  our  last  chapter,  nine 
months  have  elapsed.  They  had  been  months  of  gloom 
and  terror  for  Quito.  Executions  had  followed  executions. 
The  two  Olmos,  father  and  son,  'the  two  Garcias,  father 
and  son,  old  Pedro  Perez,  and  a  number  of  other  pa 
tricians,  and  a  much  larger  number  of  plebeians  had  been 
garroted  in  the  Plaza  of  Santa  Clara,  in  the  Plaza  of  Santo 
Domingo,  and  in  the  Square  of  La  Carniceria.  Still  others 
had  been  sent  to  penal  colonies  on  the  river  Napo.  And 
yet  the  prisons  were  full  of  men  who  were  awaiting  their 
sentences,  or  the  results  of  the  appeals  which,  as  a  special 
favor,  they  had  been  allowed  to  make  to  the  clemency  of 
the  Viceroy.  Some  of  the  finest  houses  of  Quito  had  been 
razed  to  the  ground,  salt  had  been  strewn,  and  stone  tab 
lets  sunk  on  their  sites,  with  inscriptions  stating  the  crime 
and  punishment  of  their  former  owners.  Among  the  exe- 


380  THE    SECRET    OP   THE    ANDES. 

cutions  those  of  young  Garcia  and  young  Olrnos  were 
heart-rending  in  the  extreme.  Handsome,  dashing,  brave, 
and  popular,  they  were  the  victims  who  were  most  be 
wailed.  Hundreds  of  women  witnessed  the  death  of  these 
young  officers,  and  rent  the  air  with  sobs  and  shrieks. 
Several  of  the  noblest  matrons  of  the  city  had  made  great 
efforts  to  secure  their  pardon,  but  no  such  appeals  could 
touch  the  stony  heart  of  the  lioyal  Commissioner,  who 
knew  no  mercy,  llich  and  childless,  he  was  not  accessible 
to  bribes  to  which  those  who  had  governed  before,  and  those 
who  came  after  him,  hardly  ever  failed  to  succumb.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  delighted  in  human  suffering.  He  relished 
the  preparations  for  an  execution,  and  planned  and  super 
intended  them  personally  in  all  their  details.  Only  one 
man  had  escaped  his  wrath,  but  Arana  vowed  that  no  one  else 
should;  and  the  representative  of  King  Philip  had  kept 
his  word.  There  was  no  escape  for  those  whom  he  had 
doomed.  Many  a  head  had  to  fall  for  the  one  that  had 
eluded  him.  Many  a  sentence  of  death  was  inflicted  in 
stead  of  a  lighter  punishment,  because  that  one  man  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  Royal  Commissioner. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  all  efforts  for  the  recapture  of 
Sanchez  had  failed.  He  was  never  heard  of  again.  Xot 
even  his  tracks  had  been  discovered.  The  whole  country 
from  the  northern  confines  of  the  kingdom  to  the  coast  of 
Buenaventura,  Guayaquil,  Esmeraldas,  and  Tumbez,  had 
been  explored  in  every  direction,  but  no  trace  could  be 
fouad,  no  clue  to  the  mystery  of  his  escape  could  be  ob 
tained.  The  belief  finally  gained  ground  and  was  eagerly 
accepted  and  circulated  by  Arana  and  his  party,  that  San 
chez  must  have  perished  miserably  on  the  paramos,  while 
crossing  the  mountain  ranges,  or  that  he  must  have  found 
his  death  in  the  tropical  forests  and  jungles  at  the  base  of 
the  Cordillera. 

Having  crushed  the  rebellion,  restored  the  legitimate 
authorities,  and  re-established  order  and  quietude — the 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE   OP    LIFE.  381 

quiet  of  the  graveyard — and  being  about  to  announce  the 
distrioution  of  rewards,  and  the  division  of  the  spoils  of 
confiscation.  Count  Arana  was  anxious  to  return  to  Lima, 
and  thence  to  Spain.  At  all  events  he  was  anxious  to  get 
away  from  Quito,  where  his  life  was  threatened  by  the 
plots  of  those  whose  fathers,  brothers,  husbands,  or  other 
relations  he  had  put  to  death,  and  still  more  by  the  revenge 
of  those  whom  his  confiscations  had  reduced  to  beggary. 
He  was  anxious  to  get  away  from  the  ingratitude  and  dis 
appointment  of  those  whom  he  was  about  to  reward  for 
the  services  they  had  rendered  to  the  King's  cause.  They 
were  sure  to  be  disappointed.  Disappointments  and  re 
sentments  had  always  followed  the  reassignment  of  encomi- 
endas,  and  the  distribution  of  confiscated  estates  in  Peru. 
All  wanted  what  but  a  few  could  get.  And  even  what 
there  was  could  not  all  be  distributed,  as  the  Viceroyal 
coffers  had  to  be  reimbursed  for  the  funds  which  had  been 
advanced  to  fit  out  Alcana's  expedition. 

But  the  Eoyal  Commissioner  did  not  intend  to  leave  the 
city  of  Quito  without  having  graced,  by  his  distinguished 
presence,  the  approaching  nuptials  of  Julio  de  Carrera  and 
Dolores  Solando.  The  marriage  was  announced  to  take 
place  immediately  after  the  expiration  of  the  year  of  mourn 
ing  consecrated  to  the  memory  of  the  mother  and  brother 
of  Dolores.  The  distinctions  and  honors  which  the  King 
and  Viceroy  had  graciously  pleased  to  shower  on  Carrera 
were,  thus  far,  known  only  to  Count  Arana,  who  intended 
to  announce  them  as  his  wedding  present,  on  the  day  pre 
ceding  the  marriage.  Both  courts  had  been  exceedingly 
liberal,  so  much  the  more,  as,  in  this  case,  liberality 
would  not  entail  any  expense  on  the  treasury.  Carrera,  as 
the  heir  of  his  uncle,  and  the  heir  presumptive  of  the  Mar 
quis  de  Solando,  would  be  the  wealthiest  gentleman  of  the 
old  Kingdom  of  Quito,  and  perhaps  the  wealthiest  of  the 
whole  Viceroyalty  of  Peru.  -N"o  estates  or  donations  were 
required  to  honor  his  martyrdom  and  loyal  self-sacrifice. 


382  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

Tho  title  of  Countess  would  sound  more  bewitching  to  the 
ears  of  Dolores,  than  the  announcement  of  an  addition  to 
her  wordly  possessions.  Hence  Carrera  was  to  be  made  a, 
Count,  and  should  be  authorized,  by  a  royal  ceflula,  to  wear 
in  his  escutcheon  an  aloe,  with  the  blades  of  which  plant 
he  had  been  so  cruelly  beaten  by  the  infuriated  mob.  In 
addition  to  this  the  high  and  honorable  dignity  of  lloyal 
Standard-bearer  should  be  conferred  on  him,  and  be  in 
herited  by  his  male  descendants.  He  should  be  entitled  to 
visit  Spain,  or  any  of  her  colonies,  without  first  making 
application  for  special  permission,  as  other  subjects  were 
required  to  do.  The  royal  standard  which  he  was  to  bear 
on  all  festive  or  warlike  occasions,  should  be  made  in  Spain 
by  the  artisans  of  the  Court,  consecrated  by  the  Archbishop 
of  Toledo,  and  sent  to  America  by  a  special  messenger,  who 
should  also  bring  the  chain  and  cross  which  the  King  him 
self  would  transmit  to  Carrera.  The  Viceroy  sent  a  mag 
nificent  sword,  with  belt  and  hangings  of  exquisite  work 
manship,  such  as  had  never  been  seen  at  Quito.  The  patents 
of  these  grants  were  in  the  hands  of  Arana,  and  their  de 
livery  should  be  made  the  occasion  of  great  public  cere 
monies  in  the  Cathedral  and  the  Palace.  These  were  honors 
enough  to  turn  the  head  of  any  ordinary  young  gentleman, 
but  Carrera  bore  them  modestly  and  meekly,  and  with  a 
vague  and  secret  apprehension  that  something  was  wrong, 
with  a  consciousness  of  regret  and  suspicion  lurking  some 
where  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  heart.  He  felt,  at 
times,  as  if  some  calamity  were  impending,  or  as  if 
something  were  to  happen  that  would  disturb  his  se 
curity  or  endanger  bis  well-being.  He  could  not  account 
for  these  sensations,  although  in  a  measure  he  attributed 
them  to  the  shock  his  nervous  system  had  suffered.  And 
in  this,  perhaps,  he  was  right.  The  weakness  and  prostra 
tion  following  a  long  and  serious  illness,  will  often  produce 
those  unaccountable  attacks  of  moral  fear,  startling  us  like 


BOOK    V.      THE    VALUE    OP    LIFE.  383 

sudden  presentiments  of  evil.  But  Carrera's  physical  con 
dition  was  not  the  only  and  not  even  the  principal  cause 
of  these  attacks,  which  he  did  not  confide  to  anyone,  and 
which  he  hardly  confessed  to  himself.  The  image  of  Toa 
had  not  faded  from  his  mind.  She  was  continually  in  his 
thoughts.  She  had  returned  good  for  evil.  He  had  de 
ceived  and  rejected  her,  and  she  had  saved  his  life.  As  to 
this  he  had  no  doubt.  Without  her  orders  he  would  not 
have  been  carried  to  Mama  Eucu's  cottage.  He  had  seen 
Toa's  face  bent  over  him  in  his  dreams,  while  he  lay  help 
less  on  his  couch.  He  had  seen  her  in  his  lucid  intervals, 
when  he  was  awake.  He  did  not  know  how  she  had  come 
and  how  she  went,  but  he  knew  that  she  was  there.  During 
none  of  these  visits  had  she  spoken  to  him.  Her  face  was 
bent  over  him  many  a  time,  not  in  reproach  or  in  anger, 
but  in  sadness  and  resignation.  Her  eyes,  as  they  looked 
at  him,  steadily,  watchfully,  not  in  bitterness,  yet  unfor 
giving,  had  sunk  deep  into  his  heart,  and  there  they  were 
an  ineffaceable  remembrance,  a  mortifying  problem,  a  wor 
rying  doubt,  an  ever-recurring  regret,  now  speaking  to  his 
conscience  in  whispers  hardly  audible,  then  in  tones  of  deep 
meaning,  sorrow,  and  humiliation. 

During  his  illness,  he  had  contracted  habits  of  solitude. 
He  had  learned  to  shrink  within  himself  and  to  shun  visitors. 
He  had  become  fond  of  self-communion.  There  were  so 
many  things  over  which  he  wished  'to  ponder;  so  many 
questions  which  he  alone  could  ask,  and  which  no  one  else 
could  answer.  How  little  those  around  us  dream  what  a 
vast  world  expands  within  the  hearts  and  minds  of  those 
of  whom  they  believe  to  know  so  much,  while  in  reality 
they  know  so  little.  That  world  of  secret  thoughts  and 
feelings  could  hardly  be  translated  into  words  ;  and  even 
if  it  could  be,  would  we  not  shrink  from  revealing  it  even 
to  those  that  are  near  and  dear  to  us,  as  from  an  act 
of  profanation  or  sacrilege?  No!  However  vast  and 


384  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

wonderful,  however  lonely  and  inexplicable,  however  full 
of  love,  and  of  undefined  yearnings,  or  of  regrets  and  dis 
appointments,  of  hopes  and  airy  castles,  or  of  doubts, 
wrecks,  and  ruins,  of  soaring  lightness,  or  of  heavy  sad 
ness,  that  hidden  inner  world  may  be,  let  it  remain  hidden 
and  impenetrable  to  all  but  our  own  mental  eye,  which 
alone  can  discern  and  understand  it,  and  realize  its  trea 
sures  and  beauties,  as  well  as  its  chasms  and  its  miseries. 

Now  that  Toa  was  forever  gone  from  him,  he  bogan  to 
wish  that  he  had  not  lost  her  by  his  own  unworthy  con 
duct,  ingratitude,  and  fickleness.     She  had  shown  herself 
so  noble  and   so  great,   while   he   had  shown   himself  so 
ignoble  and  so  little.     Grand,  true  and  unselfish,  she  had 
appeared  to  him;  small,  false,  and  selfish,  he  must  have  ap 
peared  to  her.     She  was  a  heroine,  physically  and  morally, 
while  his  great  act  of  physical  bravery  and  self-sacrifice 
was,  after  all,  but  an  act  of  moral  cowardice.     He  felt  that 
she  must  despise  him,  and  yet  he  wished  that  she  would 
not.     What  right  had  he  to  betray  her?     He  had  accepted 
her  love.     He  had  professed  love  to  her.     Had  he  acted  in 
good  faith  ?     He  had  done  the  worst  a  man  could  do  to  a 
woman  ;  she  had  rescued  him  from  the  jaws  of  death,  and 
then  flung  him  back  contemptuously  upon  the  world.     He 
was  too  despicable  for  her  revenge.     This  thought  was 
humiliating  in  the  extreme.     He  had  destroyed  the  ambi 
tion  of  her  life,  and  God  alone  knew  what  he  had  thrown 
away  that  might  have  come  to  him   through   her.      His 
uncle  had  made  him  believe  that  the  cause  of  the  rebellion 
was  hopeless  from  the  beginning;   and  Dolores  had  told 
him  that  it  was  betrayed  from  the  beginning,  and  experi 
ence  had  shown  that  both  were  right;  yet  when  be  con 
sidered  how  much  the  fierce  energy  of  one  earnest  and 
determined  man  had  been  able  to  accomplish,  and  how 
Roberto  Sanchez,  if  not  entrapped,  might  still  have  saved 
the  cause  of  the  Revolution,  Can-era  fell  into  a  course  of 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  385 

thoughts  which  suddenly  brought  back  to  his  rnind  the 
two  memorable  visions  which  Mama  Rucu's  potion  had 
made  him  see  in  her  cottage  on  the  evening  before  his  first 
meeting  with  Toa.  Had  he  not  beheld  victory,  and  had 
not  Toa  appeared  to  him  as  his  queenly  bride?  And  had 
he  not  seen  Sanchez  at  his  side,  fighting  his  battles?  It 
was  a  vision  only,  but  Mama  Rucu's  visions,  like  her  pro 
phecies,  were  but  the  announcements  of  things  real  which 
always  came  to  pass.  The  attack  of  the  mob  on  himself 
to  force  him  to  be  their  King,  and  the  terrible  treatment  ho 
endured  at  their  hands — had  he  not  seen  it  all,  in  its 
minutest  details,  months  before  it  happened?  Mama  Rucu 
had  promised  to  show  him  what  would  follow,  if  he  took  to 
the  right,  and  what  would  befall  him,  if  he  took  to  the  left. 
He  had  made  his  decision,  and  his  vision  was  fulfilled  ac 
cordingly,  if  the  one  was  fulfilled,  would  not  the  other 
have  been  fulfilled  just  as  well,  if  his  decision  had  been 
different?  It  was  all  clear  to  him  now.  and  he  brooded 
and  pondered  over  what  he  had  lost. 

But  why  should  he  brood  and  ponder — he,  the  most  hon 
ored,  the  wealthiest,  the  most  renowned,  and  the  most  en 
vied  gentleman  of  the  old  kingdom  of  Quito.  The  wildest 
dreams  of  his  youth  had  not  carried  him  to  an  eminence 
loftier  than  the  one  upon  which  he  now  stood.  Out  of  all 
dangers,  overwhelmed  with  honors  and  distinctions,  and 
engaged  to  big  first  love,  the  most  accomplished  lady  in 
America,  what  more  could  his  heart  desire?  Yet  Carrera 
was  one  of  those  characters  who  wear  themselves  out  in 
longing  and  striving  for  the  unattainable,  and  subject  to  the 
microscopic  tests  of  the  most  searching  and  fault-finding 
criticism  what  they  may  or  do  possess.  The  moment  the 
possession  of  Dolores  had  become  an  assured  fact  to  him, 
the  blindness  of  love  had  left  him,  and  he  began  to  observe, 
to  study,  to  analyze  her  features,  her  ways,  her  character, 
and  her  conduct;  to  take  notice  of  every  one  of  her  words, 
looks,  gestures,  and  expressions,  and  to  weigh  them,  not 


386  THE    SECRET   OF    THE    ANDES. 

with  the  scales  of  an  infatuated  lover,  but  with  the  self- 
tormenting  soberness  of  one  who  has  rashly  entered  into  an 
ill-considered  engagement.  Having  made  his  choice  of  a 
wife,  he  longed  to  be  free  to  choose.  Love  and  desire  had 
seized  him  first;  doubt  and  distrust  took  hold  of  him 
afterward.  With  such  men,  the  distant  prospect  of  suc 
cess  will  redouble  the  vigor  of  pursuit;  the  certainty  of 
success  will  at  once  relax  it,  and  even  turn  it  into  halting 
hesitation  or  regretful  disappointment.  The  objections 
and  undesirable  features  which  prudent  men  will  consider 
befo-e  entering  into  an  engagement,  men  like  Can-era,  will 
not  consider  until  after  the  engagement  is  made.  "But 
then  these  objections  will  strike  them  not  only  with  their 
own  force,  but  with  the  additional  sting  produced  by 
the  reproachful  consciousness  that  it  was  imprudent  and 
foolish  to  overlook  them. 

There  were  many  things  in  Dolores  which  he  had  not 
noticed  while  he  was  a  nightly  visitor  at  her  house,  but 
which  forced  themselves  upon  his  observation  since  he  lived 
under  the  same  roof  with  her — things  which  somewhat 
grated  upon  his  finer  feelings.  But,  most  of  all,  he  felt 
nettled  by  a  certain  tone  of  confidence  in  her  intercourse 
with  Paredes,  which  troubled,  while  it  occupied,  the  mind 
of  Carrera.  It  did  not  show  itself  in  acts  or  words;  not 
even  in  looks  or  anything  that  might  have  given  room  to 
comments.  There  was  nothing  improper  in  their  behavior 
to  each  other;  nothing  that  implied  either  familiarity  or 
the  cautious  and  generally  suspicious  avoidance  of  the 
semblance  of  familiarity  ;  yet  Carrera  felt  instinctively,  as 
it  were,  that  there  was  an  understanding  of  some  kind  be 
tween  the  two,  to  which  he  was  not  a  party.  He  had  not 
betrayed  this  apprehension  to  Dolores,  except  once,  when 
he  hinted  at  it  in  a  half-jocular,  half-remonstrative  way; 
but  Dolores  had  answered  him  so  skillfully,  candidty,  and 
submissively,  that  he  felt  disarmed,  and  even  rebuked. 
"  This  man,"  she  said,  "  has  saved  the  life  of  my  father, 


BOOK   V.      THE   VALUE   OP    LIFE.  387 

Julio,  for  which  ho  is  entitled  to  my  eternal  gratitude  ; 
but  if  my  treating  him  with  that  confidence  to  which  his 
position  as  an  old  friend  of  the  family  and  his  great  ser 
vices  to.  my  father  have  entitled  him,  should  displease  you, 
I  shall  certainly  be  more  distant  to  him  hereafter,  although 
I  am  riot  conscious  of  anything  in  words,  conduct,  or 
thought  which  might  be  considered  in  the  least  improper 
or  unbecoming  iny  dignity  as  a  lady  and  as  your  future 
wife." 

After  this,  Carrera  did  not  dare  to  recur  to  the  subject, 
but  kept  his  observations  to  himself,  jealously  adding  atom 
to  atom,  treasuring  up  in  his  memory  every  little  trifling 
incident,  gesture,  or  circumstance,  and  nursing  in  secret 
what  his  silent  watchfulness  had  gathered. 

He  had  resumed,  as  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough  to  do 
so,  those  lonely  walks  of  which  he  had  been  so  fond  even 
long  before  the  great  trials  through  which  he  had  passed 
had  made  him  older  in  mind  and  seriousness  than  he  was 
in  years.  Very  often  he  sought  out  that  secluded  moun 
tain  spot,  where  Toa  had  appeared  to  him  first,  and  where 
he  had  been  searching  for  hidden  treasures  with  Valverde 
and  Paredes.  He  sat  for  hours  at  the  place  where  he  had 
met  Toa,  Cundurazu,  and  Bellido  on  the  night  of  their 
visit  to  the  cave.  A  book  was  generally  on  his  knee  as  he 
rested  with  his  back  against  a  rock  ;  but  his  eyes  were  not 
on  the  printed  characters,  but  stared  vacantly  into  space. 
He  roamed  over  the  mountain  in  every  direction,  tracing 
every  ravine  and  every  watercourse  to  its  beginning,  and 
constantly  expecting,  yet  dreading  to  see  her  once  more,  of 
whom  his  thoughts  were  full.  On  these  occasions,  the  Fool 
was  almost  invariably  his  followei*.  He  was  not  obtrusive, 
never  spoke  unless  he  was  spoken  to,  and  always  kept  at  a 
respectful  distance.  Carrera  had  succeeded  in  dissuading 
Arana  from  subjecting  the  poor  devil  to  an  inquisition,  and 
had  taken  him  in  his  service  for  what  little  he  could  do. 
Carrera's  old  servant,  Mariano,  had  disappeared  while  his 


388  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

master  lay  senseless  in  Mama  Kucu's  cottage.  Nobody 
could  tell  what  had  become  of  him.  Many  Indian 
house-servants,  field-laborers,  and  factory-workmen  had 
disappeared  at  the  same  time.  Their  number  was  estimated 
at  from  six  hundred  to  a  thousand.  Their  tracks  showed 
that  they  had  betaken  themselves  to  the  eastern  mountain 
range,  which,  as  far  as  the  wild  and  inhospitable  nature  of 
the  sierra  would  permit,  was  searched  in  every  direction 
by  the  men  of  the  Afguacil  del  campo,  whose  office  it  was  to 
catch  fugitive  Indians  and  Negroes,  and  to  restore  them  to 
their  owners.  But  it  was  impossible  to  discover  the  where 
abouts  of  the  missing  Indians.  Their  flight  was  a  heavy 
loss  to  their  owners,  considering  the  general  impoverish 
ment,  which  had  been  aggravated  by  the  late  disturbances 
and  the  introduction  of  a  new  and  burdensome  tax. 

The  Koyal  Commissioner  seemed  to  have  relented  to 
Manuel  Paredes.  Dolores  had  the  promise  of  the  Count 
that  the  man  who  had  saved  her  father's  life  should  be 
properly  taken  care  of  in  the  final  distribution  of  rewards. 
This  promise,  Paredes  felt,  could  be  relied  on.  He  no 
longer  feared  that  others  would  be  unjustly  and  dispropor- 
lionally  preferred  to  him.  But  aside  from  this  it  was  ex 
ceedingly  mortifying  to  him  to  see  that  he  had  absolutely 
no  influence  with  Count  Arana,  who  systematically  disre 
garded  or  rejected  all  suggestions  or  advice  that  came  from 
Manuel  Paredes,  and  left  his  requests  almost  invariably  un 
attended  to.  This  unfriendly  disposition  bad  been  very 
disagreeable,  if  not  alarming,  in  one  respect,  to  Manuel  Pa 
redes.  He  had  never  been  able  to  induce  the  Count  to 
change  the  proclamation  promising  a  reward  for  the  cap 
ture  of  Juan  Castro,  by  the  addition  of  the  words  "  dead 
or  alive."  Paredes  had  tried  it  on  several  occasions,  until 
he  became  afraid  that,  b}*  referring  to  it  again,  he  might 
arouse  a  suspicion  in  the  Commissioner's  mind.  And  yet 
it  was  very  important  that  Juan  Castro  should  be  dead 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  389 

when  delivered  to  the  authorities.  He  knew  too  much  for 
the  comfort  of  Manuel  Paredes.  Perhaps  it  was  not  prob 
able  that  those  in  power  would  believe  the  slanderous  in 
ventions  of  the  lying  ruffian  ;  still  it  would  be  exceedingly 
unpleasant,  if  not  dangerous,  to  let  those  "  inventions"  be 
come  known,  circulated  about,  and  commented  upon.  Cas- 
trr>,  if  taken  alive,  would  look  upon  Paredes  as  his  pro 
tector  ;  and  if  abandoned  by  him,  the  reckles  ruffian  might 
revenge  himself  by  charging  the  responsibilit}7  of  his  own 
crimes  upon  his  noble  patron.  It  was  out  of  the  question  to 
surrender  Juan  Castro  alive.  And  yet  his  surrender  de 
pended  upon  Manuel  Paredes,  who  not  only  knew  the  hid 
ing-place  of  the  villain,  but,  in  fact,  had  helped  him  to  get 
there.  If  it  should  ever  become  known  that  the  chief  of  the 
murderers  of  Valverde  had  been  protected  and  hidden  by 
Manuel  Parjedes  on  territory  belonging  to  one  of  his  hacien- 
das,  he  would  be  ruined.  Under  these  circumstances,  Paredes 
had  no  hope  of  extricating  himself  from  this  difficulty, 
other  than  the  departure  of  Arana,  after  which  the  latter's 
successor  in  power,  the  new  President  of  the  Royal  Audi 
ence,  would  probably  be  more  accessible  to  well-meant 
suggestions  and  prudent  advice. 

Things  had  turned  out  quite  differently  from  what  Pare 
des  had  hoped  and  expected  when  he  accepted  the  secret 
commission  intrusted  to  him,  under  the  King's  seal,  by  the 
Marquis  of  Solando. 


390  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

IN  THE  COUNTRY  OP  THE  SAMARTTCU. 

ENDLESS  are  the  forests  along  the  many  rivers  forming 
the  great'fluvial  system  of  the  Amazons.  On  the  left  bank 
of  one  of  these  rivers,  abounding  in  rapids -and  falls  of  both 
picturesqueness  and  danger,  the  machete*  which  the  In 
dian  buys  from  the  white  corregidors,  and  their  trading 
partners  or  agents,  had  cleared  away  the  dense  under 
growth  of  creepers  and  jungle  for  a  considerable  distance, 
so  as  to  make  the  place  available  for  the  primitive  habita 
tions  of  the  children  of  the  wilderness.  The  virgin  trees 
had  risen  to  an  immense  height,  and  their  entwined  crowns 
of  dense  foliage  afforded  protection  from  the  burning  sun 
and  the  dense  showers,  which,  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
Cordillera,  are  of  almost  daily  occurrence,  impregnating  the 
atmosphere  with  an  annoying  excess  of  moisture,  destruc 
tive  to  garments  as  well  as  cereals. 

On  this  secluded  spot,  situated,  at  a  considerable  distance, 
to  the  northeast  ofthe  Spanish  settlements — Logrono,  Men- 
dozaandSevilladeOro — Toa  had  encamped  with  her  follow 
ers,  in  order  to  give  them  a  rest  after  the  painful  hardships 
of  a  long  and  dangerous  march  across  the  mountains,  and 
of  the  equally  trying  descent  into  the  lowlands,  where 
esculents  could  again  be  found — tropical  fruits,  fish  in  the 
rivers,  and  birds  and  monkeys  on  the  trees.  For  the  tinie 
required  to  reach  these  lowlands,  provisions  had  to  be  car 
ried  on  the  backs  of  Indians — the  foot-paths,  or  tracks 
rather,  which  must  serve  instead  of  roads,  being  entirely 
impracticable  for  beasts  of  burden  ;  and  as  a  greater  number 

*  Sword-knife. 


BOOK   V.       THE   VALUE    OP    LIFE.  391 

of  her  people  had  followed  Toa  than  she  had  intended  and 
commanded,  their  supplies  of  provisions  had  not  held  out  long 
enough,  and,  hence,  privations  .had  been  the  result,  to 
which  many  of  the  fugitives  had  succumbed.  The  hardy 
children  of  the  Sierra  were  accustomed  to  the  colds  and 
snows  of  the  mountain -passes  over  which  they  had  to 
climb,  but  not  to  the  heat  and  fevers  of  the  tropical  low 
lands,  which  broke  their  powers  of  endurance,  weakened 
as  they  were  by  the  hardships  of  the  journey.  In  addi 
tion  to  those  who  had  perished  during  the  descent, 
many  more  died  after  their  arrival  in  the  hot  forests,  and 
others  were  now  prostrate  with  dysenteries  and  fevers,  and 
unable  to  proceed.  Toa  was  unwilling  to  abandon  them, 
and  as  her  present  task  was  not  one  which  required  pre 
cipitation  or  haste,  she  had  commanded  a  halt,  so  as  to  give 
the  sick  time  to  recover,  and  to  inure  those  that  were  well 
to  a  climate  to  which  they  were  unaccustomed. 

This  was  the  sixth  week  of  her  encampment,  during 
which  time  she  had  been  a  ministering  angel  to  those  who 
stood  in  need  of  nursing  and  kindness.  The  messengers 
of  Quirruba,  the  Chief  of  the  Jivaros,  had  met  her  as  she 
descended  the  Cordillera,  and  had  guided  her  to  this  place. 
They  had  brought  her  a  hammock  of  twine  as  a  present 
from  their  chief;  they  had  also  brought  bows  and  arrows 
for  the  chase,  and  bows  arid  other  weapons  for  warfare,  and 
poison  in  which  to  steep  the  points  of  deadly  missiles. 

Quirruba's  men  had  helped  to  put  up  the  encampment 
for  Toa  and  her  followei's.  The  hut  for  the  Queen  rested 
on  poles  driven  into  the  ground,  with  a  roof  of  bijao  leaves, 
and  a  flooring  of  wild  cane.  The  hammock,  swung  from 
two  of  the  poles,  served  her,  as  Cundurazu  had  predicted, 
for  a  throne,  a  chair  of  state,  and  a  bed.  Her  followers 
camped  under  the  low  shelter  of  reeds  and  cane,  support 
ing  extemporized  roofs  of  dried  leaves  and  grasses.  The 
modest  wants  of  these  people  were  easily  satisfied,  and  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  deadly  climate  which  undermined 


392  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

their  vital  strength,  they  would  have  been  happy  in  their 
escape  from  their  cruel  Spanish  task-masters,  and  in  the 
presence  of  their  Queen.  . 

It  was  early  in  the  forenoon.  The  ground  was  still  wet, 
and  the  trees  and  bushes  were  dripping  with  the  dews  and 
showers 'of  the  night.  Toa  sat  in  her  hammock.  A  number 
of  her  followers  surrounded  her  in  a  semi-circle,  and  Quir- 
ruba's  half-naked  and  painted  messengers  stood  before  her, 
four  of  them  ready  to  return  to  their  chief,  while  two  of 
them  were  to  remain  to  serve  her  as  guides  through  the 
wilderness.  The  former  were  about  to  receive  their  part 
ing  orders,  and  to  take  leave  of  the  Shyri-Inca. 

"Take  these  presents  to  your  great  chief,"  said  Toa, 
in  the  language  of  the  Jivaros,  which  very  few  of  her 
own  followers  understood,  "and  assure  him  of  my  friend 
ship  and  regard.  His  enemies  are  my  enemies.  The  for 
eigners  who  have  invaded  his  country  are  the  same  that 
have  oppressed  my  people.  Tell  him  that  I  shall  come  to 
him,  to  concert  with  him  the  plans  for  the  expulsion  of  the 
Viracochas  from  the  country  of  the  great  rivers  and  for 
ests.  I  shall  visit  the  territories  of  other  tribes  and  na 
tions  on  my  way.  They  must  all  unite  for  the  common 
purpose." 

"  Yes,  Shyri  Toa ;  but  my  chief,  the  noble  Quirruba, 
wishes  thee  to  hasten  thy  journey*  to  his  country,  for  he  is 
anxious  to  celebrate  his  nuptials  with  the  great  Queen  whom 
he  has  loved  for  yeare." 

"  Tell  him  that  on  this  point  I  must  and  shall  inflexibly 
adhere  lo  my  determination.  Among  all  the  Indian  na 
tions,  on  both  sides  of  the  mountain  range,  there  is  but  one 
man  whom  Toa  will  have  for  a  husband.  That  man  is  your 
chief,  Quirruba !  But  Toa  has  made  a  solemn  vow  to  the 
great  God  Inti,  the  Sun,  that  she  will  be  wedded  to  no  man 
who  is  a  subject  to  the  invader.  She  will  live  in  no  coun 
try  which  tolerates  the  rule  of  the  foreigner.  On  the  day 
when  our  great  plans  have  succeeded — on  the  day  when 


BOOK   V.      THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  393 

the  bearded  oppressors  of  our  nations  are  driven  from  the 
land  that  belongs  to  Quirruba  and  his  allies — on  the  day 
when  the  Spanish  towns  in  the  heart  of  these  glorious  for 
ests  shall  be  wiped  from  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  their 
inhabitants  shall  either  be  dead  or  in  wild  flight  back  to 
the  table-lands  on  the  other  side  of  the  Cordillera — on 
that  day  of  retribution  and  revenge  Toa  will  be  the  wife 
of  Quirruba,  but  not  before." 

"  It  was  the  hope  of  my  chief,  great  Shyri-Inca,  that  the 
marriage  should  take  place  upon  thy  arrival  in  his  coun 
try,  and  that  then,  by  your  united  efforts,  the  great  work 
should  be  prosecuted  to  a  happy  conclusion." 

"  I  have  spoken.  When  Toa  Duchicela  has  made  a  vow, 
but  two  things  are  possible — Toa  Duchicela  will  either  keep 
her  vow,  or  she  will  die  in  the  attempt  to  keep  it.  The 
Shyri  Toa  never  breaks  her  word.  -She  has  devoted  her 
self  to  the  service  of  thy  chief,  Quirruba,  and  while  life  is 
left  in  her  she  will  be  true  to  him.  She  will  work  night 
and  day  to  make  him  a  great  king.  He  shall  be  the 
chief  of  the  united  nations  of  the  rivers  and  forests, 
and  those  nations  shall  be  free  from  the  yoke  of  the  inva 
der.  Until  then  Quirruba  must  have  patience.  Now  she 
knows  but  the  love  of  the  race  to  which,  we  all  belong, 
although  we  may  be  divided  into  many  nations  and 
tribes.  But  when  our  work  is  done  she  will  know  but  one 
love,  the  love  for  the  man  who  has  accomplished  it.  Tell 
him  all  this,  and  bid  him,  in  my  name,  to  begin  the  work 
at  once.  Let  him  visit  the  tribes  of  the  east  and  of  the 
south,  as  1  shall  visit  the  tribes  of  the  west  and  of  the 
north.  And  now,  go!  May  the  Sun  and  the  Moon  guide 
your  steps,  and  grant  you  a  safe  and  welcome  return." 

The  messengers  threw  themselves  on  the  ground  and 
pressed  their  faces  against  the  earth,  reverently  kissing  it 
before  they  arose  to  take  their  departure.  Nearly  all 
those  that  were  well,  accompanied  them  to  the  river  to  see 
them  embark  in  two  small  canoes,  which  were  rapidly 


394  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

borne  away  by  the  strong  current,  and  were  soon  out  of 
sight. 

The  messengers  were  not  gone  long  when  a  shout  arose 
at  the  other  end  of  the  encampment.  Toa  had  adopted  the 
European  system  of  using  a  number  of  her  available  men 
for  picket-  and  sentry-duty.  These  men  were  placed  on 
knolls,  rocks,  or  trees,  from  which  they  could  command  a 
view  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  shout  had  pro 
ceeded  from  one  of  these  guards,  and  it  was  taken  up 
by  those  that  happened  to  be  near  the  bank  of  the  river. 
They  had  descried  a  long  log  with  three  men  on  it.  It 
came  floating  down  along  the  shore.  One  man  piloted  it 
with  a  pole,  while  the  others  waved  their  bats  in  token  of 
recognition.  In  a  few  seconds  the  whole  camp  was  astir. 
"It  is  Uma!  It  is  Uma!"  was  the  joyful  cry  which  was 
repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth.  And  really  it  was  Uma, 
who,  bounding  from  the  log  with  his  two  companions, 
was  at  once  locked  in  the  embrace  of  the  fugitives,  who 
received  him  with  delirious  joy,  as  a  messenger  from  the 
dear  old  home  which  they  had  left  behind.  In  triumph 
they  conducted  him  to  the  hut  of  their  Queen,  before  whom 
he  prostrated  himself,  according  to  the  custom  of  their 
fathers. 

"Rise,  Uma,  trustiest  of  my  servants.  Toa  bids  thee 
welcome,  thrice  welcomd,  to  the  country  of  the  great  rivers 
and  forests." 

Uma  did  not  rise,  but  remained  motionless. 

"  Why  dost  thou  hide  thy  noble  face  ?  Why  dost  thou 
not  rise  to  thy  feet?  Is  it  evil  news  thou  bringest  ?" 

"  Yes,  Shyri ;  but  it  is  not  my  fault.  My  work  was  done 
well.  But  the  Gods  wei-e  against  us." 

"  Sad  news  is  no  news  to  Toa  Duchicela.  She  is  not 
used  to  glad  tidings.  Speak  !  how  is  our  Viracocha  friend  ?" 

"  He  is  dead  !" 

"  Dead  !"  repeated  Toa,  and  sunk  her  head  in  silence. 
A  pause  followed,  during  which  nothing  was  heard  but  a 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OF    LIFE.  395 

low  wail  from  those  around  them,  who  were  doubty  affected 
when  they  saw  the  two  tears  which  slowly  trickled  down 
the  cheeks  of  their  Queen. 

But  Toa  was  soon  composed.  Dashing  the  tears  away, 
she  roused  herself  and  said  :  "  Why  should  I  weep  for  one 
man,  a  stranger,  where  thousands  of  our  people  have  died. 
Yet  he  was  a  good  man — the  noblest,  the  truest,  the  best 
of  the  Viracocha  race.  Eise,  Uma,  and  tell  me  how  it 
happened." 

"  Everything  had  succeeded  admirably.  I  met  him  as 
he  walked  out  of  the  barracks,  and  led  him  to  the  moun 
tain.  We  passed  the  Goya  Cisa's  cottage  a  few  minutes 
after  thou  hadst  left  it.  But  our  friend's  feet  were  swollen 
from  the  chains  he  had  worn,  and  his  long  imprisonment 
had  made  him  weak  and  unable  to  undertake  our  arduous 
march  that  night.  Thus  we  had  to  rest  in  one  of  the  caves 
the  remainder  of  the  night  and  the  whole  of  the  next  day. 
It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  skirted  the  dread  cliffs  of  Rucu 
Pichincha,  and  descended  into  the  wilderness  on  the  other 
side.  The  storms  howled,  and  the  fogs  enveloped  us,  so 
that  I  feared  we  should  have  to  retrace  our  steps  ;  but  the 
great  Moon  was  kind,  and  dispelled  the  threatening  clouds, 
and  lent  us  sufficient  light  to  get  over  the  most  dangerous 
passes.  It  was  a  long  and  troublesome  journey.  Our 
friend  was  weak,  and  we  had  to  rest  so  often  that  our  sup 
plies  gave  out,  and  we  were  left  without  provisions  long 
before  we  had  escaped  from  the  Paramos.  Often  I  thought, 
during  those  trying  days,  I  should  never  behold  thy  Royal 
face  again.  One  of  my  men  succumbed  to  starvation  and 
cold,  and  we  placed  him  in  a  sheltered  spot  where  the  spir 
its  of  the  mountain  will  shrivel  up  his  flesh  and  preserve 
his  skin  from  decay.  O,  that  our  Viracocha  friend  should 
have  survived  all  these  dangers  and  hardships  to  die  at 
the  very  moment  that  would  have  perfected  the  success  of 
his  escape!" 

"  And  how  did  he  die  ?" 


396  TUB    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

"  I  took  him  down  the  mountain  range  and  through  the 
forests  to  the  coast  of  Esrneraldas.  Thy  messsenger  had 
arrived  before  us,  and  had  communicated  with  the  ships  of 
the  smugglers  who  trade  with  the  people  of  those  villages. 
Thy  servant  Hualpa,  who  knows  the  secret  of  the  emerald 
mines,  conducted  the  negotiations,  and  the  captain  of  one 
of  those  vessels  consented  to  take  away  our  friend  and 
carry  him  to  some  port  outside  of  the  dominions  of  Spain. 
For  this  service  the  captain  was 'to  receive  two  hats  full  of 
emeralds ;  one  of  them  at  once,  and  the  second  upon  his 
return  to  the  bay  of  Esmeraldas,  with  a  letter  from 
our  friend  informing  thy  servants  of  his  arrival  and  land 
ing  at  a  port  of  safety.  Everything  had  been  arranged 
before  we  arrived.  The  ship  had  been  in  waiting  for  more 
than  two  days  when  we  came.  But  this  was  our  misfor 
tune.  The  smugglers  feared  to  tarry  longer.  The  vessels 
of  Arana  had  lately  been  cruising  along  the  coast.  The 
pirate  captain  was  afraid  of  being  chased,  and  insisted 
that  the  Senor  Sanchez  must  embark  on  the  very  night  of 
our  arrival.  It  was  a  dark  and  stormj-  night.  The  rain 
poured  down  in  torrents,  and  the  sea  went  high.  Still,  the 
boat  of  the  smugglers  had  plied  easily  between  the  vessel 
and  the  shore,  and  we  dreamt  of  no  danger.  He  embraced 
me  long  and  tenderly  before  he  stepped  into  the  boat.  He 
begged  me  to  assure  thee  of  his  eternal  gratitude.  I  helped 
him  into  the  boat.  By  the  light  of  our  torches  I  saw  the 
boat  glide  away.  I  heard  his  inspiriting  voice  come  to  me 
through  storm  and  darkness  ;  but  all  at  once  a  big  rolling 
wave  struck  the  boat  sideways,  capsizing  it — I  saw  it  by 
the  glare  of  the  sheet-lightning — and  our  friend  was 
lost.  The  two  oarsmen,  familiar  with  the  element  and  its 
perils,  saved  themselves  in  the  shallow  water,  and  recov 
ered  even  the  boat,  but  the  Senor  Sanchez  was  lost.  Thus 
it  all  came,  Shyri  Toa.  I  swear  by  the  great  Sun  that  it 
was  not  my  fault." 

"  I  know  it,  Uma,  I  know  it.     Thou  hast  done  thy  full 


BOOK    V.       THE    VALUE    OB'    LIFE.  397 

duty.  And,  perhaps,"  she  added  after  a  pause,  "it  was 
better  for  him  to  end  thus,  than  to  suffer  the  miseries  and 
privations  of  exile  among  strangers,  whose  language  even 
he  would  not  have  understood.  Was  his  body  recovered  ?" 

"  It  was  washed  ashore  a  day  or  two  afterward.  We 
saved  it  from  discovery,  and  gave  it  a  secret  burial.  His 
sword,  and  an  amulet  which  we  found  around  his  neck, 
Hualpa  will  send  to  the  Senora  Sanchez  at  Quito,  as  soon 
a»  it  can  safely  be  done." 

"It  is  well!  To-day  we  shall  celebrate  his  obsequies  hero 
in  the  forest,  and  honor  him,  as  we  should  have  honored 
one  of  the  great  and  brave  men  of  our  own  race.  And 
what  news  dost  thou  bring  me  from  Purruha  and  Quito?" 

"  I  bring  a  message  from  Purruha  where  I  tarried  to  see 
thy  grand-aunt,  Carmen  Duchicela.  She  begs  thee  to  de 
sist  from  a  roaming  life  of  wretchedness,  as  she  calls  it,  and 
bids  me  to  implore  thee  to  come  back  to  her." 

"The  kind  and  noble  woman  !  Does  she  not  consider  that 
it  would  be  certain  death  to  harbor  the  outlaw  and  a 
traitress  on  whose  head  a  prize  is  set  by  the  Spanish 
Government?" 

"  She  sa}T8  nobody  will  know  it.  Her  estates  are  large 
and  exempt  from  surveillance.  She  has  houses  in  the 
mountains,  never  visited  by  Viracochas,  and  wholly  un 
known  to  them.  '  Let  her  come,'  she  said,  '  and  she  will 
be  safe.  Toa  knows  that  my  Indians  would  die  rather  than 
betray  her.'  " 

"And  Cundurazu?" 

"  He  staid  wi'th  thy  grandaunt,  Carmen  for  nearly  a 
week,  after  which  he  went  to  the  mountains,  and  was  not 
seen  or  heard  of  again.  The  Coya  Carmen  wanted  him  to 
remain,  but  he  said  his  hour  had  come,  and  that  he  must 
go  to  sleep  among  the  rocks  where  his  great  ancestor, 
whose  name  he  bears,  found  everlasting  rest  and  shelter." 

"  Gone  to  sleep  among  the  rocks,"  said  Toa,  slowly,  as  if 


398  THE   SECRET    OF   THE   ANDES. 

speaking  to  herself,  '-and  here  I  am  in  the  wilderness  of 
rivers  and  forests,  and  it  is  his  work." 

A  pause  followed,  after  which  Toa  said  to  her  men :  "  Go, 
my  children,  and  prepare  a  meal  for  Uma  of  what  little 
there  is  left  to  us.  He  must  be  fatigued  and  hungry,  having 
traveled  BO  far  and  so  long  to  join  us.  Stay  with  me, 
Uma,  while  thejT  prepare  thy  simple  repast.  1  have  other 
questions  to  ask  thee." 

The  men  withdrew.  Toa  and  Uma  remained  alone,  but 
in  full  sight  of  the  camp. 

"  And  he?"  asked  Toa  after  a  while. 

"Js  married  to  Dolores  Solando !" 

The  Queen  remained  silent.  No  muscle  in  her  face  be 
trayed  her  emotion.  Another  pause  followed,  during  which 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  quiet  bustle  of  the  camp  and 
the  rustling  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  above  them. 

"  Didst  thou  see  Santos?"  asked  Toa  at  last. 

"I  did,  Shyri!" 

"Well?" 

"  She  is  doing  her  work." 

Tea's  eyes  lit  up  for  a  moment  with  an  expression  of 
triumphant  fierceness. 

"  Successfully  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  Shyri.  This  is  what  the  granddaughter  of  Cozo- 
pangui  said  to  thy  servant,  Uma:  'Tell  the  Shyri  Toa  that 
he  who  has  wronged  and  betrayed  her,  now  meets  with  his 
reward.  His  life  is  a  waste,  and  every  hour  brings  its 
pangs  and  its  miseries.'  " 


BOOK  VI. 
THE  WORTHLESSNESS  OF  LIFE. 

Las  ojas  del  arbol  caidas  When  shall  I  meet  thee  ? 

Juguetes  del  viento  son.  After  long  years. 

Las  ilusiones  perdidas  How  shall  I  greet  thee? 

Ai !  son  las  ojas  caidas  In  silence  and  tears. 

Del  arhol  del  corazon.  BYROK. 

ESI'RONCKDA. 


BOOK  VI. 
THE  WORTH  LESSNESS  OF  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

SEVEN    YEARS    LATER. 

NEARLY  seven  years  have  elapsed  since  our  story  closed 
in  the  tropical  forests  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Cordil 
lera.  Seve'n  years — a  short  span  in  the  history  of  a  na 
tion,  but,  aye,  a  long  and  eventful  time  in  an  individual's 
life,  of  which  it  often  forms  the  best  or  the  worst  part. 
Great  and  continuous  are  the  changes  which  seven  years 
must  effect  around  the  individual  man  ;  but  infinitely 
greater  are  the  changes  and  transformations  which  seven 
years  will  work  within  him  ;  changes  imperceptible  to  him 
self  and  others,  and  changes  painfully  or  gladly  present  to 
his  own  mind,  and  regretfully  or  wonderingly  noticed  by 
those  who  are  near  to  him  ;  and,  hence,  should  know  him 
best.  Near  to  him  ?  Those  that  were  near  or  nearest  to 
him  seven  years  ago,  may  be  dead  or  absent,  or,  what  is 
still  worse,  may  be  farthest  away  from  him  in  thought  and 
feeling,  though  bodily  near.  The  ravages  of  death  are 
heart-rending,  but  leave  sweet  memories  behind,  growing 
dearer  to  us  who  cherish  them,  the  nearer  the  fatal  hour 
draws  to  ourselves.  But  for  those  whom  estrangement  has 
alienated,  sweetness  generally  turns  into  gall,  friendship 
and  love  into  coldness  or  bitterness,  and  regard  into  dis 
paragement.  And  when  two  human  beings  thus  estranged 
are  chained  together  by  bands  from  which  there  is  no  es 
cape  on  this  side  of  the  grave ;  when  the  one,  sick  and 

(401) 


402  THE   SECRET    OP   THE   ANDES. 

hopeless  at  heart,  disenchanted,  disappointed,  and  perhaps 
betrayed,  must  toil  on  to  the  end  of  life's  journey  by  the 
side  of  the  other,  to  whom  he  has  sacrificed  the  best  part 
of  his  life,  his  aspirations,  his  hopes  of  happiness,  his 
present  and"  future,  while  that  other  does  not  appreciate, 
and  probably  not  even  understand,  the  sacrifice,  and,  if  so, 
would  not  repay  it  with  charity,  much  less  with  gratitude ; 
when  the  friction  of  souls  which  have  become  unsympa 
thetic,  nay,  repellant  to  each  other,  is  made  chafing  by  a 
thousand  annoying  circumstances,  by  the  peevishness  or 
unreasonableness  of  the  one,  and  the  sensitiveness  or  in 
dignation  of  the  other;  by  spite  and  selfishness  on  one 
side,  and  deep  anguish,  regret,  suspicion,  or  mortification, 
on  the  other  ;  when  each  leads  his  own  life,  incessantly 
conflicting  with,  and  grating  upon,  that  of  the  other  ;  then 
what  a  change  there  will  be,  at  the  end  of  seven  years,  in  the 
heart  of  the  one  who  has  suffered  most  during  the  secret 
but  remorseless  conflict — what  a  contrast  between  the 
morning  so  hopeful  and  bright,  and  the  long,  dark  night  of 
misery  and  despair. 

The  Plaza  Mayor — the  Great  Square  of  the  city — where 
we  once  beheld  the  bloody  conflict  between  the  assailants 
of  the  Palace  and  its  heroic  defenders,  presents  a  lively 
scene.  Drums  are  beating,  and  the  bugles  resound  lustily. 
Two  companies,  made  up  of  regulars,  militia-men,  and 
fresh  recruits,  are  drilling  in  the  Square,  and  a  great  num 
ber  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  have  assembled  to  look  on.  The 
Marquis  of  Solando,  withered  by  age,  and  steadying  his 
uncertain  steps  with  a  cane,  but  still  full  of  stately  pomp- 
ousness,  is  engaged  in  conversation  with  the  President  of 
the  Eoyal  Audience,  and  some  of  his  Ministers,  surrounded 
by  a  number  of  civil  and  military  officers  and  ecclesiastics. 
The  bishop  occupies  one  of  the  balconies  of  his  palace,  while 
the  Alcaldes  and  some  of  their  colleagues  of  the  Cabildo,  gaze 
at  the  scene  from  the  windows  of  the  Municipality  Building. 
The  rabble  of  Quito,  always  idle  and  fond  of  sights,  has 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTIILESSNESS    OP    LIFE.  403 

been  attracted  in  great  numbers,  by  the  military  pageant, 
but  is  kept  at  a  respectful  distance  by  the  Municipal  Guards. 
And  the  equatorial  sky  is  so  bright  and  beautiful,  and  the 
whole  scene  looks  so  gay  and  festive,  that  we  are  tempted 
to  forget  the  dark  side  of  the  picture,  and  the 'suppressed 
sighs  and  groaning  heartaches  masked  by  smiling  faces. 
The  men  who  are  now  drilling  amidst  the  acclamations  of 
the  multitude,  have  a  long  and  tedious  march  before  them, 
which,  for  months  to  come,  will  take  them  away  from  their 
homes  and  their  families,  and  expose  them,  not  only  to  the 
pernicious  effects  of  a  dreadful  climate  and  innumerable 
hardships  and  privations,  but  also  to  the  dangers  of  an  ap 
prehended  insurrection  or  rebellion. 

Taught  by  past  experience,  the  -Royal  Audience  will  not 
again  permit  the  seeds  of  rebellion  to  grow,  owing  to  the 
absence  of  timely  and  energetic  repression.  Any  attempt 
at  disobedience  must  be  crushed  in  the  beginning,  so  as  not 
to  develop  into  an  insurrection,  and  thus  bring  about  a 
repetition  of  the  disorders  of  seven  years  ago.  Hence 
these  preparations.  Hence  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
war,  after  seven  long  years  of  peaceful  repose. 

The  new  cloud  had  arisen  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Cor 
dillera,  in  the  Province  of  Macas,  containing  four  extensive 
departments,  and  including  the  towns  of  Logrono,  Sevilla 
de  Oro,  and  Mendoza.  The  origin  of  the  trouble  was  this: 
Philip  II,  the  remorseless  despot,  had  died  at  last.  Philip 
III  had  succeeded  him.  The  announcement  of  his  coro 
nation  had  been  received  in  America,  and  in  all  the  col 
onies  and  provinces  great  festivals  were  arranged  to  ac 
company  the  pompous  ceremony — Jura  del  Hey — swearing 
fealty  and  obedience  to  the  new  King.  The  Governor  of 
Mueas,  too,  had  issued  his  orders  for  the  occasion,  and,  with 
the  usual  rapacity  of  the  Spanish  Pro-Consul,  he  planned 
to  avail  himself  of  this  opportunity  for  his  own  enrich 
ment.  He  had  issued  a  proclamation  imposing,  under 
the  misnomer  of  a  donation,  an  enormous  tax  from 


404  THE    SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

which  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  festivals  which  were 
to  be  celebrated  in  each  of  the  departments  of  his  juris 
diction.  This  tax  was  to  be  made  up  chiefly  by  the  own 
ers  of  landed  estates  and  mines,  by  the  shop-keepers  ;md 
artisans  in  the  towns,  and  by  the  Caciques  or  Chiefs  of  In 
dian  tribes.  It  had  been  announced,  in  this  proclamation, 
that  the  Governor  himself  would  visit  the  three  principal 
cities  of  his  domain,  in  order  to  receive  the  money  and  at 
tend  the  festivals.  His  first  visit  was  to  be  made  to  Logrono, 
a  young  town  which,  by  its  rapid  progress  and  develop 
ment,  had  surpassed  many  of  its  elder  sisters  throughout 
the  Kingdom.  Logrono  and  Sevilla  de  Oro,  by  the  fame 
of  their  gold  mines,  had  attracted  settlers  and  adventurers 
from  every  part  of  Peru.  For  miles  around  these  cities. 
the  forests  had  been  cleared  away,  and  many  public  and 
private  edifices  of  taste  and  comfort,  as  well  as  churches 
and  convents,  had  arisen  where,  twenty  or  thirty  years  be 
fore,  the  solitude  of  the  forest  had  not  been  disturbed  by 
the  encroaching  advance  of  civilization. 

The  impudent  rapacity  of  the  Governor  created  general 
indignation.  It  was  universally  understood  that  not  one- 
twentieth  part  of  the  money  demanded  by  him  would  be 
needed  and  actually  expended  for  the  festivals.  The  set 
tlers  well  knew  that  the  latter  formed  but  a  miserable  pre 
text,  and  that  the  real  purpose  of  the  Governor  was  his 
own  enrichment.  Under  these  circumstances,  they  would 
have  rebelled  against  this  imposition,  even  if  the  tax  de 
manded  had  not  exceeded  their  abilities.  But  in  a  new 
country,  where  the  struggle  of  civilization  against  the  ex 
uberant  forces  of  tropical  nature  had  just  begun,  they  needed 
whatever  gold-dust  or  ready  money  they  could  accumulate. 
The  royal  fifth  of  the  proceeds  of  their  mines  was  in  itself 
a  great  burden,  which  heavily  weighed  them  down.  The 
distance  from  the  coast,  from  which  they  were  separated 
by  both  chains  of  the  Cordillera,  and  the  wretched  condi 
tion  of  the  roads,  had  increased  the  prices  of  all  imported 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OP    LIFE.  405 

commodities  to  an  extent  such  as  to  reduce  the  profits  of 
all  domestic  enterprises  to  a  pitiable  figure,  and  leave  the 
settlers  poor,  in  spite  of  the  large  quantities  of  gold  which 
they  dug  from  the  mountains  and  washed  from  the  streams. 
Hence,  when  the  Governor's  rapacious  intentions  became 
known,  the  old  spirit  of  resistance,  crushed  under  the  iron 
heel  of  Arana,  at  once  revived.  Conferences  were  held  at 
the  principal  haciendas,  as  well  as  in  the  towns,  and  a 
league  was  formed  for  mutual  support  and  armed  resist 
ance.  The  Governor  trembled  when  he  heard  of  these 
movements.  He  had  no  military  power  with  which  to 
curb  the  spirit  of  sedition.  The  militia,  which  he  might 
have  called  out,  consisted  of,  and  was  commanded  by,  the 
very  men  whom  it  would  have  been  his  object  to  put  down. 
He.  therefore,  concluded  that  discretion  was  the  better  part 
of  valor,  and  assured  the  leading  colonists,  either  person 
ally  or  by  messenger,  that  they  had  misunderstood  his 
proclamation.  He  had  not  intended  to  require  or  exact 
anything  of  them.  He  had  asked  for  a  donation  only.  It 
was  a  mere  request,  with  which  they  were  at  liberty  to 
comply  according  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  or  not  at  all. 
The  minimum  which  his  proclamation  had  named  had  been 
fixed  merely  with  a  view  of  informing  the  Indian  Caciques 
how  much  the}*  were  expected  to  pay.  To  bring  these  In 
dians  to  a  sense  of  duty,  the  Governor  very  cunningly  rep 
resented,  had  been  the  principal  object  of  his  proclamation. 
The  Indian  inhabitants  of  these  forests  had  not  bent  their 
necks  to  the  Spanish  yoke  as  meekly  and  profitably  as  the 
Indians  of  the  table-lands.  The  Macas  Indians  still  lived 
together  in  separate  and  independent  tribes,  which  paid 
their  tributes  very  irregularly,  and  furnished  their  quota 
of  farm- and  mine-laborers  only  with  great  reluctance.  It 
was  necessary  to  break  their  independent  spirit,  and  get 
them  more  completely  under  subjection,  by  involving  them 
in  debt.  To  effect  this  had  been  his  main  object.  He 
thought  that  if  the  Indian  Caciques  were  unable  or  unwil- 


406  THE    SECRET   OF   TIIE   ANDES. 

ling  to  pay  the  required  amounts,  they  would  furnish  him 
with  peons  instead,  who  would  be  of  great  service  to  fehe 
colonists  themselves.  By  these  representations,  grateful  to 
the  rapacity  of  his  white  subjects,  the  Governor  soon  suc 
ceeded  in  allaying  their  indignation  and  disarming  their 
suspicions.  If  his  rapacity  was  to  be  directed  against  the 
Indians  only,  and  if  it  WHS  to  be  gratified  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  to  increase  the  number  of  slaves  in  the  colony,  it 
was  not  at  all  objectionable  to  the  Spanish  cavaliers  and 
their  plebeian  followers;  and.  instead  of  opposition,  his 
scheme  met  with  applause  and  encouragement. 

But  the  perfidious  Spaniard  had  only  dissembled  his  re 
sentment.  It  was  not  his  intention  to  forgive  those  who 
had  thwarted  him  and  defied  his  authority.  He  intended 
to  make  them  pay  for  their  disobedience.  Hence,  he  had 
secretly  dispatched  special  messengers  to  the  Koyal 
Audience  at  Quito  with  letters  in  which  he  gave  a 
most  alarming  account  of  the  sentiment  and  dispo 
sition  prevailing  in  his  Provinces.  The  spirit  of  sedition, 
he  said,  was  rife.  The  leading  men  of  the  four  depart 
ment  had  thrown  off  all  restraint  and  obedience.  A  great 
number  of  the  banished  or  fugitive  rebels  of  1592  had  found 
asylums  on  the  farms  and  in  the  mines  of  his  government, 
and  infected  the  others  with  a  spirit  of  restlessness  and  dis 
loyalty.  Still  he,  the  Governor,  had  no  power  to  prevent 
mischief  or  to  bring  offenders  to  justice.  He  was  without 
troops,  and  the  militia  would  turn  against  him,  should  he  be 
imprudent  enough  to  call  it  out.  It  was  almost  impossible, 
his  representation  continued,  to  collect  the  King's  fifth  of 
the  proceeds  of  the  mines,  without  an  ai-med  force.  The 
colonists  were  unwilling  to  pay  any  taxes  or  contributions. 
Even  a  moderate  donation  for  which  he  had  asked  in  order 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  festive  ceremonies  in  honor 
of  the  accession  of  the  new  King,  had  been  refused.  Un 
der  these  circumstances,  the  Governor  concluded,  the  out 
break  of  a  new  rebellion  would  only  be  a  question  of  time. 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTI1LESSNESS   OF    LIFE.  407 

unless  the  Audience  should  send  a  sufficient  number  of 
troops  so  as  to  enable  him  to  restore  the  Koyal  authority. 

And  this  was  the  meaning  of  the  military  pageant  on 
the  Great  Square  of  Quito.  The  two  companies  which  were 
drilling  there  under  the  bright  and  beautiful  sky  of  Quito, 
were  to  be  sent  to  the  Governor  of  Macas  to  crush  the  spirit 
of  sedition  in  the  country  of  the  "  great  rivers  and  forests," 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Andean  Cordillera. 

"  And  what  officer,"  asked  the  Marquis  of  Solando  of  the 
President  of  the  Audience,  "  will  your  Excellency  desig 
nate  for  the  command  of  this  expedition  ?" 

"  We  have  not  quite  determined  yet,  my  dear  Marquis," 
answered  the  President,  "  whether  to  give  the  command  to 
the  senior  captain,  or  whether  to  put  both  captains  under 
a  regimental  officer,  so  as  to  avoid  jealousies.  To  speak 
frankly,"  added  the  President,  laying  his  hand  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  Marquis,  and  whispering  in  his  ear,  "  I 
should  greatly  prefer  to  put  the  expedition  in  charge  of  a 
commissioner  with  civil  powers.  1  have  a  suspicion  that 
there  is  something  wrong  in  the  administration  of  the  gov 
ernment  of  Macas.  The  Governor's  own  doings  may  re 
quire  looking  into.  Of  course,  we  must  make  an  impos 
ing  military  display,  and  strike  terror  to  the  souls  of  the 
evil-minded,  but  I  think  a  man  of  judgment  and  shrewd 
ness,  entrusted  with  both  civil  and  military  powers,  would 
soon  set  matters  to  rights." 

At  this  moment,  a  gentleman  on  horseback,  in  traveling 
dress,  followed  by  a  servant,  and  both  men  and  horses  be 
spattered  with  mud,  galloped  across  the  opposite  end  of  the 
Plaza,  as  if  he  had  just  arrived  in  the  city.  For  a  moment 
he  stopped  to  look  at  the  military  pageant,  and  then  rode 
on. 

"  Was  not  that  your  son-in-law,  my  dear  Marquis?"  in 
quired  the  President. 

"  My  eyes  have  become  very  dim,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"  I  could  not  discern  his  face,  but  I  should  not  wonder  if 


408  THE   SECRET    OF   THE   ANDES. 

it  was  the  Count,  for  we  expect  him  home  to-day  from  his 
hacienda  at  Puembo,  where  he  has  been  detained  for  over 
two  weeks." 

"He  seems  to  be  away  from  the  city  a  great  deal,"  con 
tinued  the  President  with  affected  innocence. 

"  Undoubtedly,  your  Excellency  ;  but,  in  addition  to  the 
care  of  the  estates  which  he  inherited  from  his  uncle,  I 
have  to  trouble  him  with  the  superintendence  of  my  own 
haciendas,  because  I  am  old  and  decrepit ;  and  your  Excel 
lency  well  knows  that  it  will  not  do  to  leave  the  manage 
ment  of  important  interests  entirely  to  mayordomos  and 
other  employes." 

In  the  meantime,  Carrera — for  the  horseman  referred  to 
by  the  President  was  Carrera — had  ridden  to  the  Plaza  of 
San  Francisco,  and  stopped  at  the  house  of  his  father-in- 
Uiw,  with  whom  he  resided,  the  old  gentleman  having  re 
fused  to  allow  his  daughter  to  leave  him.  The  servants, 
with  whom  Carrera  always  was  a  favorite,  welcomed  him 
gladly  as  he  ascended  the  staircase  and  walked  to  the  suite 
of  rooms  occupied  by  himself  and  Dolores.  The  hounds, 
little  and  big,  jumped  around  and  up  to  him  in  big  bounds, 
barking  with  delight  at  their  master's  return  ;  the  parrots 
screeched,  and  one  little  perroquet  joyfully  flew  on  his 
shoulder  and  then  perched  on  his  finger,  repeating  without 
end  the  two  words  he  could  say:  " periquito — chiquitito." 
And  the  pet  ape,  which  was  fastened  to  a  ring  and  a  thong 
in  the  Court-yard,  sent  up  a  tremendous  chatter.  Every 
being — brute  and  human — in  the  house  greeted  the  return 
ing  master,  except  the  one  who  should  have  been  first  to 
welcome  him.  Carrera  felt  the  cut,  because  he  had  noti 
fied  his  wife  by  letter  of  the  day  and  hour  of  his  return, 
and  he  knew  that  the  letter  had  been  placed  in  her  hands. 

Sullenly  lie  threw  himself  on  a  sofa  and  allowed  his  ser 
vant  to  divest  him  of  his  spurs  and  leggings,  and  there 
was  quite  a  pause  before  he  could  prevail  upon  himself  to 
aisk  the  question  :  "  Where  is  the  Senora  ?'' 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  409 

"  She  went  out!"  answered  one  of  the  servants. 

"Out?"  echoed  Carrera  in  amazement,  "with  whom?" 

"  With  the  Senora  Catita." 

"  Whither  did  they  go  ?" 

"  To  the  Plaza  Mayor,  to  join  his  Excellency,  the  Mar 
quis,  who  is  there,  to  see  the  soldiers  drill.  Your  Grace 
might  have  met  them.  They  went  a  short  time  ago." 

Carrera  bit  his  lips.  Would  she  not  even  save  appear 
ances  ?  Was  it  right,  was  it  wife-like,  was  it  lady-like  to 
go  out  when  she  knew  that  he  would  return  after  a  pro 
tracted  absence,  and  when  the  servants  knew  that  she 
knew  it?" 

"Have  we  had  any  visitors  to-day?"  he  asked  after  another 
pause,  while  brushing  the  dust  out  of  his  hair  and  beard. 

The  servants  seemed  embarrassed,  and  exchanged  sly 
glances  among  themselves,  but  said  nothing. 

Carrera  repeated  the  question . 

"  The  Senora  Eamirez  was  here,"  said  Mama  Santos. 

"  Ah,  good  !  Is  she  well  again  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Grace." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  continued  Carrera,  and  then 
added,  attempting  the  greatest  possible  display  of  indiffer 
ence  in  the  tone  of  his  voice:  "Has  anybody  else  been 
here  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Gi*ace,"  answered  Mama  Santos.  "  The  Senor 
ParedesF'  And  again  the  servants  exchanged  furtive 
glances,  while  Carrera  winced  inwardly,  but  said  nothing. 

When  he  had  finished  his  toilette,  he  asked  whether  any 
letters  or  documents  had  come  for  him.  They  were  brought, 
and  he  gave  them  a  hasty  perusal,  after  which  he  locked 
them  in  his  desk.  He  then  left  the  house  to  go  to  the 
Plaza.  His  wife  had  disgraced  him  before  the  servants  by 
not  waiting  to  receive  him,  and  by  not  even  leaving  a  mes 
sage  for  him  when  she  went ;  but  he  would  not  disgrace 
her  and  himself  by  not  going  to  seek  her  on  the  Plaza,  or 
whithersoever  she  bad  gone. 


410  THE    SECRET  OF    THE    ANDES. 

He  did  not  have  to  go  far,  but  met  the  party  as  thej*  re 
turned  to  the  house — Dolores  and  her  aunt,  the  Marquis, 
Juan  de  London©,  Manuel  Paredes,  and  two  or  three  young 
gentlemen.  Dolores  stepped  forward  to  meet  her  husband, 
and  gave  him  a  cold  and  formal  embrace.  She  did  not 
kiss  him,  but  presented  her  cheek  to  him,  which,  for  the 
sake  of  appearances,  he  touched  with  his  lips  with  equal 
coldness.  Much  more  cordial  was  the  reception  Aunt 
Catita  gave  him,  and  still  heartier  the  embrace  of  the  old 
Marquis,  who  was  very  fond  of  his  son-in-law.  The  gen 
tlemen,  in  their  turn,  approached  to  salute  their  returning 
friend,  and  none  of  them  with  more  warmth  and  cordiality 
than  Manuel  Paredes.  Carrera  felt  as  if  he  were  taking  a 
viper  to  his  bosom  when  he  opened  his  arms  to  Paredes  lor 
the  customary  Spanish  embrace. 

The  Marquis  invited  the  whole  party  to  stay  with  him 
for  dinner,  claiming  to  have  received  a  fresh  quantity  of 
most  excellent  wine  from  Lima  ;  and  they  all  accepted,  and 
tasted  the  wine,  which  was  strong  and  fiery,  and  made 
them  exceedingly  merry,  all  except  Carrera,  who  remained 
moody  and  apparently  abstracted,  saying  little,  but  drink 
ing  a  great  deal.  Yet,  while  he  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought, 
and  returned  short  and  unconnected  answers  to  ques 
tions  asked  of  him,  he  was  incessantly,  but  furtively,  watch 
ing  Paredes  and  Dolores,  who  felt  that  his  03*6  was  on  them, 
and  consequently  conducted  themselves  with  the  greatest 
circumspection. 

A  much  larger  number  of  gentlemen  called  after  dinner 
to  pay  their  respects  to  Carrera.  Ladies,  too,  came  in  to 
see  Dolores,  and  the  company's  merriment  increased  as  the 
afternoon  wore  on.  Carrera  longed  to  get  away  from  them. 
He  longed  to  be  alone  with  his  thoughts.  But  it  was  im 
possible  for  him  to  go.  Most  of  the  persons  present  had 
come  expresshr  to  call  on  him,  and  so  he  had  to  bear  it  and 
force  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  small  talk  out  of  his  mouth, 
while  his  heart  was  sick  and  heavy.  The  merriment  led 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  411 

to  cards,  as  usual,  and  a  monte-table  was  organized,  which 
soon  absorbed  the  attention  of  everybody.  The  excitement 
of  the  game  afforded  some  relief  to  Carrera,  and  he  played 
and  drank  in  order  to  stun  the  grief  within  him.  Once,  he 
noticed,  while  the  plaj-ers  were  going  to,  and  coming  from, 
the  refreshment  table,  that  Paredes  and  Dolores  met  in  the 
center  of  the  room,  and  that  something  was  said  by  her  in 
an  abrupt  manner  while  passing  Paredes — a  something 
which  hardly  anybody  could  have  heard  or  noticed,  a  some 
thing  that  Carrera  could  not  hear  ;  but  be  saw  or  imagined 
to  see  the  knowing  and  responsive  look  of  Paredes,  and 
that  was  enough.  The  supposition:  that  there  must  be  an 
understanding  between  Paredes  and  Dolores  recurred  to 
the  mind  of  her  husband  with  irresistible  power  ;  and  oth 
ers,  evidently,  had  noticed  it  likewise.  Many  a  time  he 
thought  he  had  seen  people,  who  sat  or  stood  at  a  distance 
from  the  main  table,  look  at  the  two  when  they  happened 
to  stand  together,  and  then  exchanged  looks  and  whispers 
among  themselves.  What  did  they  think?  Did  their 
looks  and  whispers  really  refer  to  his  domestic  relations  ? 
Had  it  gone  thus  far?  Had  he  become  an  object  of 
pity  or  ridicule  ?  If  he  could  only  know  it !  And  yet 
he  could  not  ask  ;  and,  besides,  people  would  not  tell  him 
their  thoughts  or  acquaint  him  with  rumors  or  reports 
discreditable  to  himself,  even  if  he  should  ask  them.  Such 
a  life  was  terrible.  Even  the  certainty  of  his  shame  would 
have  been  less  intolerable  than  these  vexing,  wearing,  gnaw 
ing  doubts  and  suspicions. 

The  company  broke  up  in  time  to  get  to  their  homes  be 
fore  the  sounding  of  the  stay-bell,  a  regulation  which  we 
described  in  the  beginning  of  our  story.  No  conversation 
had  as  yet  taken  place  between  husband  and  wife.  After 
the  visitors  had  departed,  Carrera  sat  awhile  with  the  old 
gentleman,  giving  him  the  information  he  was  anxious  to 
obtain  about  the  state  of  the  crops,  the  condition  of  the 
herds,  and  other  matters  of  interest  to  a  landed  proprietor. 


412  THE    SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

At  last  the  Marquis  retired.  Dolores  escorted  him  to  his 
room  to  see  to  his  comforts,  while  Carrera  withdrew  to  his 
part  of  the  house.  Soon  afterward  his  wife  joined  him. 
And  now  the  time  most  dreaded  by  those  who  are  chained 
together  in  conjugal  misery  had  returned,  the  time  when 
they  are  alone  together,  unprotected  by  the  presence  of 
outsiders  or  the  restraints  of  society. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

HUSBAND   AND   WIFE. 

DOLORES  said  nothing,  but  without  looking  at  her  hus 
band,  quietly  began  to  divest  herself  of  her  shawl,  combs, 
and  jewelry.  Carrera  had  caught  her  eye  but  once  ;  but 
this  was  enough  to  satisfy  him  that  she  was  ready  and  pre 
pared  for  a  conflict.  What  should  have  aroused  her  wrath, 
masked  for  the  present  by  an  air  of  studied  indifference, 
Carrera  was  unable  to  tell.  She  had  returned  his  caresses 
when  he  took  leave  of  her  to  go  to  Puembo.  A  temporary 
peace  had  been  restored  before  he  left  the  city.  What 
could  have  disturbed  that  peace  again?  If  she  had  any 
ground  of  complaint  against  him,  why  did  she  not  state  it, 
KO  that  it  might  either  be  removed,  rectified,  or  explained  ? 
Why  should  two  human  lives  be  made  miserable,  when  a 
few  friendly  words  of  understanding  could  set  them  right? 
His  wife's  frequent  fits  of  sullen  silence  had  been  among 
the  worst  trials  of  his  wretched  married  life.  They  had 
either  pained  him  like  a  slow,  gnawing  toothache,  or  they 
had  filled  him  with  rage  and  indignation,  which  often  made 
him  lose  his  temper  when  he  struggled  hardest  to  maintain 
it. 

Should  he  speak  first?  But  what  should  he  say?  He 
had  often  rehearsed  in  his  mind,  while  absent  from  Quito, 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS   OF    LIFE.  413 

how  he  would  talk  to  her  on  certain  irritating  subjects,  how 
he  would  reason  with  her,  and  through  words  of  kindness 
and  persuasion  open  a  new  way  to  her  heart.  But  he  could 
not  attempt  to  deliver  these  fine  speeches  now,  when  she 
met  him  with  cold  defiance,  when  she  showed  hostilitj7" 
without  cause,  and  when  he  knew  that  the  very  first  words 
he  spoke  would  be  the  opening  of  a  battle  which  he 
dreaded,  because  such  conflicts  were  so  entirely  repugnant 
to  his  whole  nature,  which  excelled  by  its  anxiety  to  please 
and  to  conciliate,  and  longed  almost  morbidly  for  that  re 
ciprocity  of  kindness  and  affection,  which,  of  all  others, 
life  seemed  to  deny  to  him  who  needed  it  most.  He  knew 
that  a  battle  was  before  him  if  he  spoke,andyet  how  could 
he  remain  silent?  His  heart  began  to  palpitate  the  very 
moment  he  attempted  to  speak.  He  knew  his  pent-up  ex 
citement  would  give  a  strange  tone  and  quiver  to  his 
voice,  which  would  mar  his  most  conciliatoiy  language. 
And  thus  it  was,  that  several  times  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  but  hesitation  weighed  down  his  tongue  and  sealed 
his  lips  ;  his  voice  refused  to  give  utterance  to  the  words 
his  mind  had  spoken. 

Carrera  had  stood  at  his  desk  waiting  for  something  that 
might  relieve  this  state  of  painful  suspense,  but  nothing 
came  to  his  aid.  He,  therefore,  concluded  to  forego  all  his 
prepared  speeches  and  arguments,  and  to  make  an  effort  to 
disarm  her  by  demonstrative  kindness.  It  was  peace  he 
wanted  more  than  anything.  If  he  was  not  to  be  treated 
affectionately,  he  would,  at  least,  strive  for  peace.  He 
knew  he  would  have  to  buy  it  by  humiliation  and  self- 
abasement  ;  but  it  was  indispensable  to  his  wounded  heart. 
It  was  the  best  he  could  attain  under  any  circumstances, 
and  he  would  make  one  more  honest  effort  to  attain  it. 

Hence,  he  approached  Dolores,  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened,  ready  to  ignore  and  forgive  the  slight  of  the  morn 
ing,  and  attempted  to  draw  her  to  his  breast.  But  she 
pushed  him  away  contemptuously,  and  went  to  the  other 


414  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

end  of  the  room,  where  she  sat  down  and  began  to  undo 
her  hair. 

""What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  with  a  superhuman 
effort  at  self-control. 

No  answer.  He  repeated  his  question,  and  again  there 
was  no  answer.  True  to  his  resolution  to  secure  peace  at 
any  price,  he  continued  :  "Why  doj'ou  act  thus,  Doloritas? 
Must  there  always  be  discord  and  bitterness  between  us? 
Can  we  never  live  in  peace  and  pleasantness  like  other 
married  people?" 

Still  no  answer.  Slowly,  but  irresistibly,  the  anger  arid 
indignation  of  Carrera  gained  the  ascendancy  over  his 
prudent  and  peaceful  resolutions. 

"You  seem  to  be  angry,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  come 
back.  You  wanted  me  to  stay  away  longer,  perhaps  en 
tirely.  You  could  not  express  your  disappointment  at 
my  return  more  manifestly  than  by  the  reception  you 
gave  me  this  morning." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 

Carrera  was  stunned.  He  was  not  prepared  for  such  an 
admission.  It  surprised  and  mortified  him.  "  Then  your 
conduct  this  morning,"  he  asked,  "  was  intentional?" 

"  I  must  give  you  the  flattering  satisfaction  to  say  that 
it  was  not,  although  it  would  have  been  just  as  well  if  it 
had  been.  I  wanted  to  see  the  soldiers  on  the  square,  but 
1  expected  to  be  back  before  your  arrival.  Not  that  I 
think  you  deserve  any  such  considerateness  on  my  part, 
but  I  know  what  1  owe  to  myself.  I  do  not  intend  to  dis 
grace  3'ou,  and  consequently  myself,  before  the  servants,  as 
you  disgrace  me  in  the  presence  of  other  people." 

"I?"  asked  Carrera,  amazed. 

"  Yes,  you  !"  answered  Dolores,  who,  woman-like,  dis 
dained  to  remain  on  the  defensive. 

"  Would  you  have  the  kindness  to  explain,"  said  Carrera, 
with  increasing  irritation,  "  how  I  disgrace  you  in  the 
presence  of  other  people  ?" 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OP    LIFE.  415 

"  Of  course  what  you  do  is  right.  It  never  strikes  j'ou 
that  anybody  else  can  have  feelings.  You  are  conscious 
only  of  your  own  whims  and  suspicions." 

"Suspicions?" 

"  Yes,  suspicions !"  resumed  Dolores,  aggressively.  "Your 
unfounded  and  insulting  suspicions  have  made  me  an 
object  of  public  talk  and  derision.  The  way  you  watch 
me  in  company  is  scandalous.  Or  do  you  think  I  do 
not  notice  what  to  almost  everybody  else  has  become  an 
object  of  comment  and  ridicule?  When  Senor  Paredes 
happens  to  be  with  us,  your  eyes  are  always  on  me.  Your 
looks  are  never  averted  for  an  instant.  Wherever  I  go, 
they  follow  me.  You  look  at  me  as  intently  as  if  I  were  a 
wild  beast,  every  motion  of  which  must  be  watched.  Do 
you  think  that  this  is  pleasing  to  me?  Are  you  so  dull  as 
not  to  perceive  that  your  conduct  must  expose  me  to  in 
jurious  talk?  People  must  notice,  and  have  noticed,  that 
you  are  dreadfully  suspicious  of  me.  Will  their  idle  curiosity 
content  itself  with  this  one  fact?  Most  certainly  not.  They 
will  go,  and  have  gone,  farther.  They  will  reason  thus:  'If 
the  Count  de  Carrera  is  so  suspicious  of  his  wife,  that  he  for 
gets  himself  in  company,  and  disregards  the  considerations 
which  are  due  to  her  and  to  others,  he  must  have  grounds 
for  his  suspicions,  reasons  for  his  jealousy.  He  would  not 
make  such  a  persistent  and  reckless  display  of  it,  if  she  had 
not  given  him  cause.'  This  is  the  way  people  will  talk. 
Hence,  if  discreditable  reports  concerning  myself  and  the 
Senor  Paredes  should  be  set  afloat,  it  is  your  conduct  to 
which  they  owe  their  origin.  Do  you  think  I  thank  you 
for  it.  Indeed,  not !  I  hate  you  for  it !" 

Carrera  was  dumbfounded.  His  presence  of  mind  was 
gone.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say.  By  this  sweeping 
attack,  she  had  changed  his  position  from  that  of  a  husband 
who  dreaded  to  be  injured  by  his  wife,  to  that  of  a  culprit 
who  had  injured  and  disgraced  her.  As  our  best  thoughts 
are  after-thoughts,  so  Carrera  could  not,  at  this  moment, 


416  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

recall  any  of  the  many  circumstances,  of  greater  or  lesser 
importance,  which  he  had  laid  up  in  his  mind  against  his 
wife.  She  had  taken  him  by  surprise  by  broaching  a  sub 
ject  boldly  from  which  he  himself  had  shrunk.  Her  tone 
and  bearing  were  those  of  injured  innocence.  And  perhaps 
she  was  innocent.  It  was  clear  that  she  did  not  love 
him,  as  he  yearned  to  be  loved.  Yet  hers  was  a  cold 
nature  in  which  love's  roots  could  not  strike  very  deep; 
but  she  was  proud  and  ambitious,  and  her  pride  might 
have  done  for  her  what  virtue  alone  would  not  have  ac 
complished. 

She  perceived  the  advantage  she  had  obtained,  and  de 
termined  to  press  it.  "  Once  and  for  all,  Julio,  I  tell  you 
that  I  am  weary  and  tired  of  your  unreasonable  conduct. 
I  have  borne  with  it  as  long  as  I  could ;  I  can  not  and  will 
not  bear  with  it  any  longer.  If  you  have  no  regard  for  my 
feelings,  you  should  understand,  at  least,  that  by  persisting 
in  your  insulting  ways,  you  will  disgrace  our  whole  house, 
and  worst  of  all,  yourself.  Whatever  change  my  feelings 
toward  you  may  have  undergone,  I  am  your  wife,  Julio, 
and  know  my  position  as  such.  The  Countess  of  Carrera 
will  never  disgrace  herself,  and  her  family.  I  know  my 
duty  as  a  wife.  Do  you  know  yours  as  a  husband?  You 
have  vowed  to  protect  me,  but  instead  of  protecting,  you 
disgrace  me."  And  with  these  words  she  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  handkerchief,  and  broke  into  a  sob. 

Carrera  was  nearly  subdued.  He  groped  for  a  reply,  but 
neither  the  suitable  words  nor  the  suitable  ideas  presented 
themselves. 

"I  am  sure,"  he  said  at  last  in  an  apologetic  way,  "that 
you  greatly  exaggerate,  Doloritns.  But  even  if  some  of 
your  charges  were  true,  they  would  only  prove  my  love. 
There  could  not  be  jealousy  without  love." 

".Ridiculous!  I  know  better!  1  have  seen  the  great  men 
of  our  city,  and  know  what  their  jealousy  is  made  of.  It  is 
wounded  self-love  and  nothing  else.  They  can  even  be 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  417 

jealous  of  a  woman  whom  they  have  discarded.  You  may 
have  ceased  to  love  me,  you  may  even  hate  me,  still  I  see 
you  tortured  by  the  suspicion  that  I  might  have  given 
another  that  love  which  you  have  rejected." 

"But  how  unjust  you  are,  Dolores.  You  seem  to  forget 
that  your  conduct  toward  Paredes  has  not  been  as  strictly 
guarded  as  I  should  have  desired.  His  visits  are  incessant" — 

'•  To  my  father  and  family,  such  as  they  were  before  I 
married  you." 

"  No,  Dolores.  He  comes  to  see  you.  He  is  admitted  to 
our  rooms  during  my  absence." 

"But  never  when  I  am  alone,"  interrupted  Dolores.  '-'I 
have  never  received  him  here,  unless  Aunt  Catita,  Mama 
Santos,  or  some  of  the  servants  were  in  the  room.  Where 
is  the  human  being  who  can  say  that  I  ever  received  him 
without  witnesses?  Where  is  the  man  or  woman  who  can 
charge  me  with  anything  wrong  or  even  improper?  What 
have  1  done?  Why  should  I  be  disgraced  by  false  suspicions, 
and  persecuted  with  insults  by  my  own  husband?  No, 
Julio,  what  you  are  doing  to  me  is  hateful,  and  it  is  but  too 
natural  that  I  hate  you  for  it,  and  repel  your  treacherous 
caresses." 

She  had  nearly  subdued  him.  He  did  not  know  what  to 
say.  But  there  is  this  great  defect  in  the  strategy  of  women, 
that  when  once  on  the  war-path,  they  do  not  seem  to  know 
when  to  stop  ;  and  that  they  are  disinclined  to  rest  on 
their  laurels  after  having  achieved  a  victory.  It  should 
have  been  clear  to  her  discerning  mind  that  her  husband 
had  been  completely  worsted  during  the  engagement, 
and  that  in  the  softness  of  his  sensitive  nature  he  was 
now  most  anxious  to  surrender.  She  should  have  ac 
cepted  this  surrender,  because  by  doing  so  she  would  have 
completely  re-established  her  ascendency.  After  having 
defeated  and  captured  the  enemy  she  should  have  abstained 
from  torturing  her  prisoner.  But  this  is  a  temptation  which 
women  of  a  shrewish  or  tyrannical  disposition  will  hardly 


418  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

ever  be  able  to  resist.  It  is  not  enough  to  fell  the  enemy 
to  the  ground ;  he  must  also  be  scalped  and  mutilated  so 
as  to  punish  him  for  the  resistance  he  had  attempted. 
Hence  when  Carrera  meekly  pleaded  for  reconciliation, 
mutual  forgiveness,  and  peace,  she  persisted  in  trampling 
upon  what  she  supposed  to  be  his  helplessness,  and  in  do 
ing  so  she  forgot  that  it  is  not  the  heavy  weight,  but  the 
additional  straw  which  breaks  the  back  of  the  over-laden 
camel.  Not  by  stabbing  him  to  the  quick,  but  by  turning 
the  knife  around  in  the  wound,  she  wrung  from  her  hus 
band  that  cry  of  anguish  with  which  the  agonized  slave  at 
last  breaks  his  fetters,  and  escapes  from  his  tormentor. 

Carrera  had  ceased  to  argue,  to  reason,  to  remonstrate. 
He  sued  for  the  peace  which  she  withheld.  Her  real  or 
pretended  implacability  made  him  unspeakably  miserable. 
Death  was  preferable  to  such  a  life.  He  said  so,  but  was 
answered  with  a  sneer.  At  last  he  said,  slowly  nodding 
his  head,  and  speaking  to  himself,  while  his  memory  wan 
dered  back  to  the  happy  time  when  he  was  still  free  to 
choose :  "And  this  is  the  woman  to  whom  I  have  sacrificed 
so  much  ! " 

"  Sacrificed  what,  Senor?"  she  exclaimed  sharply.  "  Have 
you  considered,  in  the  selfishness  of  your  heart,  which  was 
the  side  that  made  the  heaviest  sacrifice  ?  You  are  prob 
ably  thinking  of  that  Indian  witch  and  adventuress,  with 
whom  you  carried  on  amorous,  treasonable,  and  ungodly 
relations,  which  would  have  landed  you  on  the  scaffold,  or 
in  the  prisons  of  the  Holy  Office — and  rightfully  so — if  my 
hand  and  my  father's  position  had  not  saved  you.  Your 
impudence,  Julio,  can  only  be  excelled  by  your  ingrati 
tude.  What  have  you  sacrificed  to  me  ?  Your  head  would 
have  ornamented  the  gates  of  the  city,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  me.  I  risked  my  reputation  to  warn  you  the  night 
before  the  riot.  I  told  you  what  was  to  come  on  the 
next  morning.  But  you,  like  a  fool,  waited  for  it,  instead 
of  betaking  yourself  to  a  place  of  safety.  And  who 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTIILESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  419 

nursed  you  day  and  night  when  they  brought  yon,  a 
living  corpse,  to  this  house?  For  the  fabulous  treasure 
of  that  witch,  which  would  .have  disappeared  in  your 
hands  like  a  mockery,  I  have  given  you  solid  wealth.  I 
have  conferred  honors  and  distinctions  on  your  empty 
head,  instead  of  a  traitor's  hood  or  the  San  Benito  which 
you  should  have  worn  if  I  had  not  saved  you,  and  made 
you  what  you  are.  And  now  you  talk  of  sacrifices,  be 
cause  you  were  once  favored  by  an  Indian  impostress  and 
vagabond." 

"Not  another  word?"  said  Carrera,  arising  from  her  side, 
at  which  he  had  seated  himself  while  pleading  for  recon 
ciliation  and  forbearance.  "  Do  not  insult  the  memory  of 
one  who  was  infinitely  belter,  nobler,  purer,  and  truer  than 
you.  I  have  discarded  the  pearl  for  the  shell,  the  jewel  for 
the  base  imitation,  and  I  am  now  suffering  the  just  punish 
ment  of  my  treachery  and  folly.  A  short  life  of  happiness 
and  glory  by  the  side  of  Toa,  the  great,  the  good,  and  the 
true,  and  ev<jn  if  followed  by  death  on  the  scaffold,  would 
have  been  preferable,  immensely  preferable,  to  a  long  and 
wretched  life  of  misery  by  the  side  of  Dolores,  the  wicked, 
the  cruel,  and  the  false.  I  might  have  been  a  King  if  it 
had  not  been  for  you  ?'" 

"And  why  were  you  not?"  she  asked,  rising  from  her 
chair  likewise,  and  drawing  herself  up  opposite  to  him, 
with  her  long  and  beautiful  hair  flowing  over  her  shoul 
ders,  and  her  eyes  sparkling  with  the  fire  of  hate  and 
fierceness,  beautiful  as  Medusa,  but  still  beautiful,  even  in 
her  moral  deformity.  "  And  why  were  you  not,  you  faint 
hearted  slave?  Why  were  you  a  coward?  Do  you  think 
that  I  esteem  the  wretch  who  is  too  pusillanimous  to  con 
quer  glory  and  immortality?  Give  me  a  man  !  It  is  man 
hood  I  admire  !  But  you,  Julio,  are  a  Avoman,  and  a  slave. 
Had  I  been  a  man  and  in  your  place,  I  should  have  been 
a  King,  at  whatever  cost,  and  if  it  had  been  only  for  a  day, 
with  death  at  the  end  of  it,  vet  I  should  have  been  a  King." 


420  THE    SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

Carrera  did  not  know  whether  he  was  awake  or  whether 
he  was  dreaming.  He  stood  listening,  with  his  eyes  riv 
eted  on  her,  like  the  bird  charmed  by  a  serpent,  and  long 
after  she  had  ended  he  still  stood  looking  at  her,  unable  to 
recover  from  the  amazement  which  had  overwhelmed  him. 
At  last  he  began  to  wring  his  hands,  and  said,  in  a  piteous, 
incredulous,  and  almost  shrieking  tone  of  voice  :  -'Dolores, 
did  I  hear  right?  Did  you — you — you  say  all  this 
to  me?" 

"1  think  I  spoke  plainly  enough  !"  she  answered,  walk 
ing  awajr  from  him  haughtily  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 
.But  Carrera  followed  her. 

"  Did  you  mean  these  words,  Dolores,  you,  the  very 
woman  for  whom  I  refused  it  all  ?  Dolores,  you  who  came 
to  me  to  warn  me,  to  plead  with  me  not  to  succumb  to  the 
temptation,  do  you  now  reproach  me  with  doing  what  you 
had  implored  me  to  do?" 

"  I  did  my  duty  to  my  King,  to  my  father,  and  to  you, 
whom  I  then  looked  upon  as  a  friend,  /was  right  in  what 
I  then  said,  and  you  acted  most  properly  and  prudently 
in  following  my  advice.  But  did  you  act  heroically  ?  Did 
you  act  like  a  man?  Did  you  act  as  a,  cavalier  to  the  In 
dian  Princess  who  pretended  to  love  you,  and  perhaps  did 
really  love  you,  and  to  whom  you  must  have  given  some 
pledges  to  encourage  her  in  the  advances  she  had  made  to 
you  ?  Did  you  act  in  good  faith  to  lioberto  Sanchez,  your 
best  friend?  He  might  have  supplied  what  you  lacked, 
courage,  determination,  energy,  ambition.  Your  Toa  was 
a  Queen,  and  possessed  a  treasure  which  you  say  you  saw 
with  your  own  eyes.  Public  opinion  was  on  your  side  ; 
hundreds  of  armed  men  stood  waiting  and  anxious  to 
strike.  Arana  might  have  been  crushed  in  the  mountains. 
You  certainly  had  chances  enough  in  your  favor,  but  you 
were  too  dull  to  see  and  too  timid  to  seize  them.  J  despise 
a  coward !" 

"Almighty  God!"  exclaimed  Carrera,  still  wringing  his 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS   OF    LIFE.  421 

bands,  "and  this  from  the  woman  who  asked  me  to  act  as  1 
have  acted,  and  for  whose  sake  I  did  what  I  have  done." 

But  now  the  reaction  set  in.  Whatever  there  was  manly 
and  noble  in  his  nature  rebelled  against  her  heartless  cru 
elty.  He  snatched  up  some  of  his  ponchos,  and,  turning  to 
the  door,  he  said  :  u  I  shall  relieve  you  from  the  presence  of 
a  man  whom  you  hate  and  despise.  What  I  have  suffered 
during  the  long  years  of  our  unhappy  marriage,  language 
is  inadequate  to  express.  But  to-night  you  snapped  the 
last  chord  that  held  you  to  my  heart.  It  is  over  now. 
May  God  forgive  you  the  life  of  wretchedness  and  misery 
which  you  have  led  me!" 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room.  The  darkness  into 
which  he  stepped,  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  was 
almost  impenetrable.  The  night  was  as  black  as  the  hope 
lessness  of  his  wounded  soul.  Every  thing  was  still  in  the 
house.  Once  it  seemed  to  him  as  it'  a  shadow  flitted  past 
him,  but  he  was  too  preoccupied  to  take  notice  of  anything 
but  the  wounds  from  which  his  heart  was  bleeding.  He 
felt  his  way  out  of  the  corridor  into  the  main  hall.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  mansion  were  all  asleep,  and  little  they 
dreamed  of  the  anguish  of  their  future  master,  who  groped 
for  the  door  of  the  reception-room.  He  feared  lest  he 
should  find  it  locked.  Fortunately  it  was  open.  He  en 
tered  noiselessly,  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  stumbled 
over  chairs  and  stools  until  he  reached  a  sofa,  on  which  he 
threw  himself,  covering  his  limbs,  cold  and  trembling  from 
excitement,  with  the  ponchos  he  had  brought.  Here  he 
would  pass  the  night,  not  sleep,  for  sleep  had  fled  from 
him.  He  had  tasted  the  bitterest  fruits  of  the  tree  of 
knowledge.  His  eyes  were  open,  fully  open,  at  last,  and 
his  heart  was  dead. 


422  THE    SECRET    OP   THE   ANDES. 


CHAPTER  III. 

REVELATIONS. 

HE  must  have  lain  for  about  an  hour,  during  which  the 
tension  of  his  nervous  system,  and  with  it  his -bold  deter 
mination  had  given  way  to  fresh  doubts,  hesitations,  and 
fears.  Was  it  not  too  bold  a  step,  he  meditated  ?  Carrera 
was  not  a  man  of  action,  and  he  shrank  from  the  difficul 
ties  and  troubles  with  which  the  execution  of  his  resolution 
was  beset.  He  felt  like  one  helpless  in  the  toils.  What 
would  the  old  Marquis  say?  Would  not  he  and  Dona 
Catita  and  all  their  relations  and  friends  beseech  him  with 
all  their  influence,  remonstrances,  prayers,  and  authority, 
in  order  to  prevent  the  scandal  of  a  separation  ?  And  what 
excuse  could  he  give  for  it?  By  what  facts  could  he  justify 
so  momentous  a  step?  His  complaints  were  matters  of  feel 
ing  which  could  not  be  made  public,  and  would  be  consid 
ered  trifles  and  partly  imaginary,  could  they  be  made 
known.  There  was  no  marriage  without  its  quarrels  ;  and 
the  Church,  as  well  as  the  woi'ld,  would  require  him  to  bear 
his  cross  with  charity,  and  to  forget  and  forgive.  But  need 
there  be  a  declared  separation  ?  He  might  go  back  to  one 
of  his  haciendas,  and  from  that  to  another.  The  produc 
tiveness  of  the  estates  of  his  father-in-law,  as  well  as  of  his 
own  depended  upon  his  personal  superintendence  and  ex 
ertions,  and  the  more  time  he  devoted  to  them,  the  better 
they  would  prosper.  But  could  he  stay  away  from  Quito 
continually?  Would  not  Dolores  and  her  famil}T  require 
him  to  spend  at  least  a  part  of  his  time  with  them  in  order 
to  save  appearances  ?  His  frequent  and  prolonged  ab 
sences  had  already  been  commented  upon  by  the  idle  gos 
sips  of  Quito.  And  yet,  how  could  he  return  to  a  woman 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTI1LESSNESS    OP    LIFE.  423 

who  had  treated  him  with  such  mi  natural  hatred  and 
cruelty ;  a  woman  who  trampled  upon  his  heart  and  de 
lighted  in  his  sufferings  ?  Could  she  reaHy  be  such  a  fiend  ? 
Was  it  possible  for  a  human  being  to  be  so  destitute  of  all 
affection  and  charity  ?  No.  It  could  not  be.  She  had 
evidently  been  very  excited;  he  had  wronged  and  offended 
her  concerning  Paredes  ;  if  she  was  really  innocent,  she 
had  just  cause  to  be  indignant,  and  in  the  proud  conscious 
ness  of  her  innocence,  stung  to  the  quick  by  his  insulting 
suspicions,  she  had  gone  further  than  she  intended,  saying 
things  which  she  had  not  meant,  and  could  not  have  meant. 
If  this  was  so,  she  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  excusable, 
while  he  was  in  the  wrong.  But,  being  in  the  wrong,  it 
was  his  duty  to  put  himself  in  the  right.  Yet,  had  he  not 
done  so  ?  Had  he  not  already  apologized  to  her  and  im 
plored  her  forgiveness  ?  Should  there  be  no  end  to  his 
self-abasement?  Perhaps,  however,  he  had  made  no  allow 
ance  for  the  fact  that  women  could  not  make  up  a  quarrel 
as  easily  as  men.  A  man  might  fire  up  in  one  moment  and 
cool  down  in  the  next.  A  woman  could  not  do  that ;  her 
excitement  lasted  longer;  she  required  more  time  to  calm 
herself,  and  again  to  become  accessible  to  considerations  of 
reason  and  charity.  By  this  time,  probably,  she  had 
cooled  down  and  was  sorry  for  what  she  had  said  But 
why,  then,  did  she  not  come  to  call  him  back  ?  Because 
she  expected  him  to  come,  he  being  the  one  whose  jealous 
conduct  had  given  the  first  offense.  Yes  ;  he  would  make 
one  more  effort.  He  would  go  back  to  her  bed,  and  if 
she  again  repelled  him,  then  let  the  chord  be  cut  forever. 
He  was  about  to  rise  in  order  to  carry  out  this  resolu 
tion,  when  the  thought  struck  him  that  by  doing  so  he 
would  completely  sacrifice  all  control  over  her,  and  forever 
lose  all  the  ascendency  which  he.  as  the  husband,  should 
maintain.  This  consideration  started  a  new  train  of 
thoughts  in  his  mind,  and  threw  fresh  doubts  on  the  prob 
lem  which  he  was  debating  with  himself.  Should  he — 


424  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

His  brooding  was  interrupted  by  a  creaking  noise  caused 
by  the  opening  of  the  door.  A  white  figure  appeared  on 
the  threshold.  Was  it  Dolores ?  Who  else  should  it  be? 
Yes,  it  must  be  his  wife,  who,  having  come  to  her  senses, 
at  last  had  left  her  bed  to  seek  him  and  to  restore  the  peace 
for  which  he  longed.  In  spite  of  all  his  misery  his  heart 
leaped  with  joy  at  the  approach  of  relief,  and  if  it  were 
only  temporary  relief,  from  the  difficulties  and  troubles  with 
which  he  was  surrounded.  But  why  had  she  not  brought 
a  light?  How  could  she  find  him  in  this  darkness?  Sud- 
denty  it  struck  him  that  tins  w:is  not  the  figure  of  Dolores. 
Dolores  was  one  of  the  tallest  women  at  Quito,  while  the 
female  apparition  which  stood  in  the  door  seemed  to  be 
much  smaller.  His  eyes  had  now  become  used  to  the  dark 
ness.  The  hall  outside,  too,  had  become  a  little  lighter,  as 
the  storm-clouds  had  passed  away  which  had  made  the 
night  so  black  when  he  left  his  room.  He  could  plainly 
discern  now  that  it  wras  not  the  figure  of  Dolores  which 
stood  on  the  threshold  ;  and  yet  who  could  it  be?  Super 
stitious  terrors  seized  him.  He  had  never  seen  a  ghost, 
but  he  had  heard  those  who  pretended  to  have  seen  ghosts 
in  which  he  and  everybody  else  believed.  The  hair  of  the 
figure  in  the  door  seemed  to  be  the  long  and  coarse  hair 
of  an  Indian  woman.  Could  it  be  Toa,  who  had  died  and 
now  appeared  to  him  in  the  hour  of  his  worst  misery  to 
reproach  him  with  his  treachery  and  desertion  ?  He  had 
lifted  himself  up  on  his  elbows,  and  gazed  speechless  at  the 
white  figure  before  him.  The  apparition  stood  motionless 
for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  advanced  toward  him.  The 
cold  perspiration  broke  from  his  forehead,  and  his  heart 
beat  audibly.  He  was  brave  in  danger,  but  helpless  in  the 
face  of  what  he  supposed  to  be  the  supernatural. 

Nearer  and  iiearer  the  apparition  drew,  until  Carrera 
uttered  an  involuntary  and  hardly  audible  exclamation  of 
terror.  At  this  the  figure  halted.  Carrera  had  now  suffi- 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OF    LIFE.  425 

ciently  recovered  himself  to  invoke  the  Divinity,  the  Yir- 
gin,  and  the  saints  in  order  to  ward  off  the  specter. 

"  Is  it  your  Grace?"  the  figure  said  at  last,  and  Carrera 
heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief,  as  he  recognized  the  low  and 
musical  voice  of  Mama  Santos. 

u  What  art  thou  doing  here,  Mamita?" 

"I  hope  your  Grace  is  not  sick,"  continued  the  Indian, 
without  taking  notice  of  his  question. 

"Not  in  body,  Mamita,"  he  said,  half  dreamily,  "but  I 
am  sick  at  heart." 

"I  know  it,  amo,"  she  said.  "I  have  known  it  for 
years." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  answered  Carrera,  peevishly,  "  and 
I  remember  thee,  woman,  and  the  poison  I  always  drew 
from  thee.'* 

"  From  me,  amo?" 

"  Yes,  from  thee  !  It  was  thou,  I  remember,  from  whom 
I  received  all  the  information  that  slowly  but  irresistibly 
drove  the  sharp  and  poisonous  dagger  of  doubt  and  dis 
trust  into  my  heart.  Whatever  troubled  my  mind,  and 
took  away  my  rest  and  my  peace,  I  learned  from  thee.  I 
remember  it  all." 

"  Your  Grace  is  unjust,"  replied  Santos,  "  cruelly  unjust 
to  a  faithful  servant.  I  am  a  servant  at  this  house.  The 
Nina  Dolores  is  my  mistress,  and  your  Gracei  8  my  mas 
ter.  I  belong  to  the  conquered  race.  Obedience  is  my 
duty.  When  I  am  commanded,  I  must  do  as  I  am  told. 
When  I  am  questioned,  I  must  answer.  I  volunteer  no 
information,  and  I  carry  no  tales.  What  your  Grace  has 
asked  of  me,  is  all  that  I  have  ever  told." 

"Yes,  but  didst  thou  tell  me  the  truth?  Were  thy  an 
swers  always  what  they  should  have  been  ?" 

No  answer. 

•'  Why  dost  thou  remain  silent?" 

"  I  am  the  granddaughter  of  Cozopangui,  the  governor 
of  Quito  under  Atahualpa  and  Kumiiiagui.  I  came  from 


426  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 

a  noble  house  undefilcd  by  lies  or  treachery.  But  your 
Grace  need  not  believe  me.  Your  Grace  asked,  and  I  an 
swered.  Your  Grace  asked  a  great  deal ;  I  never  answered 
much.  Am  I  to  be  blamed  because  I  said  too  much  or  too 
little?" 

"Dost  thou  insinuate  that  there  is  more  to  be  told? 
Am  I  to  understand  that  there  are  things  which  wei-e  left 
unsaid  bythee?  Answer  me  !  Tell  me  the  truth  for  the 
love  of  God.!  I  am  harassed  to  death  by  uncertainty.  It 
is  certainty  I  want.  Canst  thou  give  it  to  me?" 

Again  there  was  no  answer. 

"  Speak  woman  !     Wilt  thou  drive  me  mad  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  servant  in  this  house,"  said  Santos  with  Indian 
indirectness  and  stoicism.  "  I  have  never  refused  to  an 
swer  my  master's  questions." 

"  Well,  why  dost  thou  not  tell  me  all?  Dost  thou  not  see 
that  I  am  heart-broken  and  miserable?  " 

"  I  know  it  without  seeing  it.  I  knew  that  it  would  be 
so,  long  before  your  Grace  came  to  this  house  as  the  hus 
band  of  ^Tina  Dolores." 

Carrera  now  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  seizing  her  by  both 
arras,  he  shook  her  passionately.  "  What  didst  thou  know 
before  I  came  to  this  house?  Speak,  woman,  or  I  shall 
murder  thee!  " 

"  Calm  yourself,  Master.  The  grand-daughter  of  Cozo- 
pangui  will  not  yield  to  threats  or  violence.  But  when 
spoken  to  in  kindness,  she  will  promptly  obey  the  commands 
of  her  Master,  whom  she  honors,  because  of  all  the  inmates 
of  this  house,  he  is  the  only  one  who  has  been  kind  to  her 
race." 

Carrera  accepted  this  rebuke,  which  restored  him  to  his 
senses.  "  Forgive  me,  Marnita!  I  did  not  mean  any  harm 
to  thee.  I  was  excited,  and  1  am  so  miserable.  Sit  down 
by  me,  Mamita.  and  tell  me  all.  How  didst  thou  know  be 
fore  1  came  to  this  house  that  I  would  be  miserable?" 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Carrera  waited  pa- 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OF    LIFE.  427 

tiently  for  an  answer.  At  last  the  answer  came  :  "  Because 
the  Nilia  Dolores  never  loved  the  man  to  whom  she  gave 
her  hand  in  marriage." 

"Art  thou  sure  of  it,  Mamita?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  How  dost  thou  know  it?" 

"  Because  I  know  that  she  loves  another!  " 

"  Who  is  that  other?" 

"Your  Grace  knows  it  as  well  as  I." 

"  How  dost  thou  know  that  she  loves  him?" 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Master."  With  these  words  she 
seized  his  left  hand,  lifted  it  to  the  level  of  his  head,  and 
then  pressed  it  back  against  the  wall.  "  Here,  Amo,"  she 
continued.  "  Pass  your  fingers  over  the  tapestry!  Press 
it!  Do  you  find  anything?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  depression,  a  hole." 

"  Just  so,  Master.  It  was  made  by  the  Nina  Catita,  in 
order  to  listen  to  the  conversation  of  people  in  the  recep 
tion-room,  and  to  see  what  they  were  doing.  I  discovered 
it  in  the  wardrobe,  and  used  it  myself  on  several  occa 
sions." 

"  AYell,  what  didst  thou  hear  or  see  ?  " 

"  I  both  heard  and  saw  !  " 

"  Speak  !  "  said  Carrera,  although  he  dreaded  to  listen. 

"  I  heard  them  on  the  night  before  the  riot,  at  which 
your  Grace  was  nearly  killed  by  the  rabble  " — 

"Well,  and?"— 

"  They  were  quarreling.  The  Nina  Dolores  said  that  she 
would  go  to  your  house  to  prevail  upon  your  Grace  to  re 
ject  the  offer  of  the  crown.  He  objected  to  her  going.  He 
said  he  would  go  himself,  and  mold  you.  She  insisted 
that  she  would.  He  then  became  jealous,  very  jealous,  and 
there  was  a  quarrel.  But  finally  they  made  it  up." 

"How?" 

"She  told  him  that  she  did  not  love  you,  and  that  she 
never  would.  They  then  embraced  and  kissed  each  other !  " 


428  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

"  Enough !  Enough !  I  will  not  listen  to  more.  At 
least  not  now.  If  it  is  false,  the  crudest  of  all  deaths  would 
not  be  sufficient  punishment  for  thee.  If  it  is  tru^e,  it  is  too 
much  for  me  at  once.  I  can  not  bear  it  all  at  once.  It  is 
too  terrible  a  betrayal  to  be  believed.  My  head  swims.  I 
feel  dizzy  and  faint.  Leave  me,  Mamita,  leave  me  now  !  I 
must  be  alone  with  my  thoughts..  Go!  Go  !  Mamita!  I 
shall  see  thee  to-morrow,  when  I  am  strong  euough  to  hear 
the  rest." 

"  You  will  be  sick,  Master." 

"  No,  I  shall  not;  but  1  must  be  left  alone." 

"  You  will  not  betray  me,  Amo  ?" 

"Upon  the  honor  of  a  cavalier,  I  will  not.  But,  now, 
go  ;  for  the  love  of  thfi  Virgin,  go !" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

RESOLUTION. 

THE  weary  hours  of  the  long  night  seemed  to  be  inter 
minable  to  Carrera,  as  he  lay  on  the  sofa,  praying  to  God 
and  the  Virgin  to  show  him  a  way  out  of  this  dreadful 
labyrinth.  He  was  ashamed  to  face  Mama  Santos  again, 
the  woman  who  had  direct  and  positive  evidence  of  his 
disgrace.  He  was  ashamed  of  himself  and  of  the  ridiculous 
part  he  had  played,  with  the  whole  society  of  Quito  for  an 
audience.  What  was  his  title,  what  were  his  honors,  what 
was  his  wealth  to  him  now — to  him,  a  cuckold  at  whom 
the  finger  of  scorn  and  contempt  would  be  pointed,  and 
behind  whose  back  people  would  laugh  and  sneer,  and  in 
dulge  in  vile  jokes  and  ribaldry  at  his  expense?  Should 
he  kill  that  villain  Paredes  ?  Perhaps  he  should.  A  "  dag 
ger  of  the  mind  "  assumed  distinct  and  bloody  shape  in 
Carrera's  imagination.  But  would  it  not  be  reckless  to 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTIILESSNESS   OF   LIFE.  429 

take  life  upon  such  testimony  as  this?  Accepting  all  that 
Mama  Santos  had  said  as  true,  the  proof  was  still  deficient. 
Dolores  may  have  dallied  with  Paredes  before  she  married 
Carrera.  Paredes  was  known  to  be  one  of  her  earliest 
pretenders.  Yet  she  may  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  was  not  the  man  whom  she  would  prefer  to  all 
others.  Carrera's  heroism  and  sufferings,  together  with 
his  titles  and  distinctions,  may  have  turned  the  scale  in  his 
favor.  She  may  have  allowed  Paredes  to  take  certain  lib 
erties  before  she  became  another  man's  wife,  and  yet  this 
conduct,  however  improper,  might  not  be  incompatible 
with  her  subsequent  loyalty  to  her  husband.  Of  acts  or 
circumstances  from  which  the  crime  of  adultery  might 
have  been  inferred,  he  had  no  proof  except  the  treatment 
he  experienced  at  her  hands.  And  yet,  did  not  this  very 
treatment  support  the  presumption  of  her  innocence  ?  If 
she  were  really  guilty,  would  she  not  fawn  upon  him  and 
kill  him  with  kindness,  rather  than  lead  him  to  suspect  her 
of  infidelity?  But  guilty  or  not,  the  life  she  led  him  was 
unbearable.  Any  rescue  from  it,  and  if  by  death,  would 
be  a  welcome  relief  after  the  years  of  suffering  through 
which  he  had  passed.  And,  after  all,  had  he  not  told  Mama 
Santos  to  stop  before  she  had  concluded  her  statements? 
She  evidently  knew  more  than  she  had  told  ;  but  he  had 
refused  to  listen.  There  was  more  behind,  but  he  had  been 
too  cowardly  to  hear  the  whole  truth. 

Day  dawned  at  last  and  brought  no  consolation,  no  ray 
of  light  to  the  darkness  of  his  heart.  The  servants  began 
to  bustle  about  the  house,  and  would  soon  enter  the  recep 
tion-room.  What  would  they  think  if  they  should  find 
their  master  lying  on  a  sofa,  and  covered  with  ponchos, 
thus  displaying  the  fact  that  he  had  spent  the  night  away 
from  his  wife?  He  hastily  arose  and  returned  to  his  room. 
He  opened  the  door  noiselessly  and  entered.  Dolores  was 
asleep.  Carrera  dressed  himself  and  then  took  up  his 
plumed  hat,  his  sword,  and  cloak,  and  was  just  about  to 


430  THE   SECRET   OF   THE    ANDES. 

leave  the  room  when  he  turned  to  cast  a  last  look  at  his 
wife.  Dolores  was  now  awake.  Her  eyes  were  wide  open, 
and  looked  at  him  with  cold  indifference.  Carrera  was 
about  to  put  a  barrier  of  separation  between  himself  and 
her.  He  had  not  yet  determined  how  to  do  it,  but  he  was 
resolved  that  it  should  be  done.  Still  he  would  give  her  a 
last  chance  to  return  to  her  conjugal  duty.  So  he  advanced 
one  or  two  steps  toward  the  bed,  and  said,  still  holding  his 
hat,  cloak,  and  sword:  "Dolores!  Have  you  nothing  to 
say  to  me  with  reference  to  our  disagreement  of  last  night?" 
She  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  and  then  said  :  "Nothing!" 

"  Nothing  with  reference  to  the  future  ?" 

"  Nothing,  except  this  :  I  am  willing  to  save  appearances, 
if  you  are.  Do  not  act  the  fool  before  people,  but  behave 
like  a  reasonable  being." 

"Is  this  all  you  have  to  say — nothing  more?" 

"Nothing!" 

"  It  is  well !"     Thus  saying,  Carrera  left  the  room. 

With  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and  wrapped  up  in  his  cloak, 
he  had  descended  the  first  steps  of  the  main  staircase,  when 
something  pulled  him  back  by  his  cloak.  It  was  Mama 
Santos.  "One  word,  Master!"  she  said,  descending  with 
him  to  the  landing.  "I  found  this  paper  in  the  scila  this 
morning.  I  do  not  know  who  dropped  it  or  from  whom  it 
came!"  Carrera  took  it,  and  read  the  following  lines: 
"  The  President  insists  on  my  going,  at  least  as  far  as 
Riobamba.  I  must  leave  to-morrow  morning,  and  shall 
not  see  you  for  several  weeks."  Carrera  turned  pale,  as  he 
read  the  paper  which,  he  doubted  not,  had  been  written  by 
Paredes.  And  to  whom  had  it  been  written  ?  Clearly  it 
could  have  been  intended  for  nobody  but  Dolores. 

"  I  thank  thee,  Mamita,"  he  said,  as  he  hurried  down 
stairs.  "  It  is  well." 

He  hastened  on  without  knowing  whither.  Incessantly 
haunted  by  perplexities,  he  did  not  know  what  course  to 
take.  What  should  he  do?  What  could  he  do?  Where 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OP    LIFE.  431 

was  the  road  to  escape?  The  morning  was  cold.  The  sun 
had  not  yet  arisen.  Carrera — shivering  with  chilliness 
and  excitement — kept  up  a  rapid  walk,  so  as  to  produce  at 
least  a  physical  reaction.  Suddenly  he  was  startled  by  the 
beating  of  drams.  He  stopped  and  listened.  A  thought 
flashed  through  his  mind.  It  made  him  listen  almost  with 
rapture  to  what  sounded  to  him  like  notes  of  deliverance. 
At  the  same  time,  soldiers  equipped  for  a  journey  came 
riding  down  from  the  barracks,  preceded  and  followed  by 
pack-mules  with  provisions  and  military  stores.  The  road 
to  escape  was  now  open.  There  was  his  chance.  Why 
had  he  not  thought  of  this  before?  He  would  go  and  see 
the  President  of  the  Jioyal  Audience  as  soon  as  he  could  be 
seen.  His  Excellency  was  not  a  very  early  riser,  and 
Carrera  could  hardly  restrain  his  impatience.  He  would 
have  to  wait  two  or  three  hours  at  least.  There  was  no 
help  for  it.  He  would  also  have  to  get  some  breakfast,  as 
he  had  eaten  very  little  the  evening  before.  But  he  did 
not  intend  to  return  home,  before  it  was  all  done  and  ir 
revocable.  He  did  not  trust  his  own  firmness.  He  knew 
but  too  well  how  easily  he  could  be  swayed  and  influenced. 
Hence,  he  would  not  -go  home  for  breakfast,  nor  would  he 
go  to  the  house  of  any  of  his  friends  where  he  might  be 
molested  and  annoyed  with  questions,  and  compelled  to 
talk  when  he  preferred  to  be  silent. 

He,  therefore,  wended  his  way  to  the  bridge  of  Macban- 
gara  and  across  it  to  the  now  famous  tienda  of  Dona  Mari- 
quita,  the  mother  of  Juan  and  Mercedes  Castro.  Dona 
Mariquita  had  not  changed  much  in  seven  years.  Her 
features  had  become  a  little  sharper,  her  face  a  little  stonier, 
and  her  hair  a  little  whiter;  but  her  neck  was  still  unbent, 
her  bearing  as  erect  and  her  step  as  elastic  as  of  old.  Her 
circumstances  had  improved  since  the  profitable  night, 
when  Eoberto  Sanchez  was  entrapped  under  her  treacher 
ous  roof,  and  thence  delivered  a  prisoner  into  the  hands  of 
Arana.  But  the  payment  of  pressing  debts,  the  restoration 


432  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

of  her  almost  dilapidated  house,  and  losses  owing  to  ig 
norance  and  mismanagement,  had  greatly  reduced  the 
golden  reward  of  the  part  which  she  had  played  in  the 
plot.  She  was  disappointed,  too,  in  her  daughter  Mercedes. 
The  worthy  mother  had  hoped  that  Mercedes,  in  the  course 
of  time  and  events,  would  forget  her  dead  lover,  and  con 
sole  herself  with  a  living  successor,  whose  liberality  would 
help  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  household.  But  in  this 
Dona  Mariquita  was  mistaken.  Mercedes  never  forgot  the 
lost  Roberto,  and  never  forgave  herself  for  having  been  the 
innocent  and  unsuspecting  cause  of  his  shameful  betrayal. 
Her  life  was  devoted  to  God  and  to  her  child,  a  bright  and 
energetic  boy  of  seven  years,  the  only  link  that  connected 
his  mother  with  the  things  of  this  earth.  Aside  from  him 
she  bad  neither  eyes  nor  ears  for  the  attractions  and  allure 
ments  of  the  world.  The  church  was  her  only  place  of 
refuge.  For  whole  hours  she  lay  on  her  knees  before  some 
image  of  the  blessed  Virgin.  The  fasts  she  imposed  upon 
herself,  the  pilgrimages  she  undertook,  the  number  of 
masses  she  heard,  the  discipline  to  which  she  subjected 
herself,  had  made  her  a  beata  in  the  eyes  of  the  multitude 
which  at  first  had  been  inclined  to  judge  her  very  harshly. 
But  now  everybody  pitied  the  pale  and  angelic  sufferer 
who  quietly  glided  through  the  streets  on  her  way  to  or 
from  church  or  chapel,  with  her  head  bent  low  and  her 
eyes  seeking  the  ground,  speaking  to  nobody  unasked,  yet 
when  spoken  to,  having  a  polite  and  modest  answer  for 
everybody,  which  pleased  and  conciliated,  while  it  pre 
cluded  familiarity,  if  her  boy  was  with  her,  her  whole 
being  was  wrapt  in  him.  He  was  her  past,  her  present, 
and  her  future,  in  whom  and  for  whom  alone  she  lived. 
If  her  boy  was  not  with  her,  her  thoughts  and  hopes  were 
in  the  other  world,  where  some  day,  after  this  long  and 
weary  earthly  suffering  had  ended,  she  would  be  reunited 
to  her  Roberto,  who  must  know  then,  if  he  did  not  know 
it  now,  that  she  had  not  betrayed  him  in  life,  and  that  she 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTIILESSNESS   OF   LIFE.  433 

was  true  and  faithful  to  him  until  death.  In  the  meantime 
she  earnestly,  fervently,  and  continually  prayed  for  his 
release  from  purgatory;  and  what  little  money  she  was 
able  to  save  was  spent  for  masses  for  the  peace  and  salva 
tion  of  his  soul.  Time,  that  wears  out  everything  could 
not  deaden  or  diminish  the  intense  love  of  that  gentle  crea 
ture  for  the  dead  hero  who  had  rested  in  her  arms  when 
Hhe  dreamed  that  short  dream  of  happiness — alas!  so  very 
short — which  was  followed  by  such  a  cruel  and  terrible 
awaking. 

Dona  Mariquita  was  in  ecstasies  to  see  such  a  great  and 
distinguised  personage  in  her  humble  P'enda  as  the  Count 
Julio  de  Carrera.  She  cringed  before,  and  fawned  upon, 
him,  and  flew  about,  as  if  on  wings  of  lightning,  to  obey 
the  comman'ds  and  gratify  the  wishes  of  his  Excellency. 
Such  high  honor  had  not  been  conferred  on  her  lowly 
house  since  the  great  Count  Arana  had  condescended  to 
enter  it,  in  order  to  look  at  the  room  in  which  Roberto 
Sanchez  had  been  taken  prisoner.  Mercenary  visions  of 
frequent  and  profitable  repetitions  of  Carrera's  visit  arose 
in  the  mind  of  Mariquita,  who,  in  spite  of  seven  years'  ex 
perience,  did  not  yet  quite  know  her  daughter.  Count 
Carrera's  unhapy  domestic  relations  constituted  a  public 
secret.  He  was  the  richest  man  of  the  kingdom.  Mercedes 
was  still  young  and  her  beauty  had  increased  instead  of 
fading.  Perhaps  the  Senor  Count  had  come  with  a  view 
to  establish  more  intimate  relations. 

What  else  should  he  have  come  for?  Mercedes,  it  is 
true,  had  proved  strangely  inaccessible  and  intractable 
thus  far.  but  Carrera  had  been  the  best  friend  of  Roberto 
Sanchez,  a  fact  which  was  known  to  everybody  and  well- 
known  to  Mercedes.  Perhaps  she  would  look  upon  the 
confidential  friend  of  her  dead  lover  with  more  willingness 
than  upon  the  other  cavaliers  who  had  endeavored  to  suc 
ceed  him  in  her  favors.  It  was  so  provoking  that  she  was  not 
at  home.  She  had  gone  to  mass  with  her  boy  ;  and  she 


434  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

was  such  a  religionist  nowadays  that  there  was  no  tell 
ing  when  she  would  return. 

The  prattling  of  Dona  Mariquita  was  grating  to  Car- 
rera  ;  but  it  was  preferable  to  what  he  might  have  had  to 
endure  elsewhere.  Her  loquacity  relieved  him  of  the  ne 
cessity  of  saying  anything  in  return.  He  listened  to  hardly 
one-half  of  what  she  said,  and  returned  only  short  and  un 
suitable  answers.  But  his  moodiness  did  not  discourage 
the  worthy  mother,  who  received  it  as  evidence  of  his  dis 
appointment  at  not  finding  her  daughter  at  home,  for 
whose  absence  she  continued  to  apologize,  while  assuring 
him  of  the  probability  of  her  immediate  return.  Even  the 
breakfast  Carrera  had  ordered  was  delayed  so  as  to  give 
Mercedes  a  chance  to  return,  before  the  distinguished  and 
promising  visitor  should  take  his  departure. 

Mariquita  had  conducted  her  guest  to  the  best  room  of 
the  house,  apologizing  for  its  dust  and  disorder  on  the 
ground  of  the  early  morning  hour,  and  entirely  ignoring 
the  very  great  probability,  if  not  certainty,  that  he  would 
not  have  found  it  differently,  had  he  called  at  any  other 
time  of  the  day.  Carrera  was  greatly  relieved  when  his 
hostess  betook  herself  to  the  kitchen  in  order  to  give  her 
personal  superintendence  and  co-operation  to  the  prepara 
tion  of  his  breakfast.  He  took  the  paper  which  M:ima 
Santos  had  given  him  out  of  his  pocket  and  looked  at  ft  in 
tently.  He  was  not  familiar  enough  with  the  handwriting 
of  Paredes  to  be  convinced  that  he  was  the  writer.  But  he 
would  soon  know.  If  Paredes  had  really  gone  to  Eiobamha, 
there  was  no  doubt  that  he  had  written  the  paper.  And 
to  whom  could  he  have  written  it  but  to  Dolores?  He 
may  have  dropped  it  on  the  floor,  while  attempting  to  slip 
it  into  her  hand.  Or  she  may  have  dropped  it  inadvert 
ently,  before  or  after  she  had  read  it,  thinking  that  she 
had  put  it  in  her  pocket. 

Carrera's  perplexing  thoughts  were  at  last  interrupted 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTH LESSN ESS   OP    LIFE.  435 

by  Doiia  Mariquita  and  her  servant,  who  brought  in  Ins 
breakfast. 

"  There  must  be  a  great  deal  of  travel  and  custom  now, 
Dona  Mariquita,"  he  began,  "on  account  of  the  sending  of 
troops  from  here  to  Macas." 

"  O,  yes,  your  Grace.  I  have  been  up  before  daybreak 
this  morning,  in  order  to  attend  to  business." 

"  Did  an}-  person  of  note  come  by  here  this  morning?" 

"Yes,  Seiior  Count,  the  Sefior  Manuel  Paredes  passed 
here  this  morning  on  his  way  to  JRiobamba,  where  he  is  to 
make  arrangements  for  the  collection  of  provisions  and  the 
impressment  of  Indian  carriers  for  the  expedition  to  Ma 
cas." 

Carrera  turned  deathly  pale  and  could  hardly  swallow 
the  morsel  he  had  in  his  mouth  when  he  heard  the  prompt 
confirmation  of  his  suspicions.  Dona  Mariquita,  not  no 
ticing  her  guest's  perturbation,  continued:  "His  Mayor- 
dome,  Don  Tomas,  is  now  in  my  tienda.  He  accompanied 
the  Seiior  Paredes  as  far  as  Turubamba,  arid  has  just  come 
back.  The  Seiior  Paredes,  he  said,  might  have  had  the 
command  of  the  Macas  expedition,  but  declined  it  on  the 
ground  of  the  dreadful  hardships  of  such  a  campaign.  It 
is  a  fearful  task  to  cross  the  Cordillera  into  the  wilds  on 
the  other  side,  where  the  roads  are  so  bad  that  half  the 
time  the  travelers  will  have  no  use  for  their  horses,  but 
must  wade  through  mud,  swamps,  or  jungle.  Besides,  that 
country  is  said  to  be  very  sickly,  full  of  fevers  and  insects, 
and  so  damp  that  the  clothes  will  rot  from  the  bodies  of 
travelers.  They  say  its  mines  are  wonderfully  rich  in  gold 
and  emeralds;  but  the  Seiior  Paredes  has  become  so 
wealthy  since  half  the  estates  of  the  Sanchez  were  al 
lotted  to  him,  that  he  need  not  expose  his  life  in  search 
of  mines.  But  your  Excellency  does  not  eat.  Have 
I  failed  to  give  satisfaction  to  your  Excellency?  This 
is  the  best  breakfast  we  are  able  to  get  up  here ;  but,  of 
course,  your  Excellency  is  used  to  such  splendid  living 


436  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

that  even  our  best  must  appear  unpalatable  to  the  SeSor 
Count." 

"  Not  at  all,  Dofia  Mariqnita.  Your  breakfast  is  very 
good.  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  1  am  not  well.  I  have  not 
felt  well  for  several  weeks.  It  is  rest  more  than  nourish 
ment  I  require.  Would  you  have  the  kindness  to  let  me 
rest  here  for  about  half  an  hour?  -1  shall  not  put  you  to 
any  further  trouble/' 

Dona  Mariquita  was  delighted.  Carrera  evidently 
wanted  to  wait  for  Mercedes.  If  that  girl  would  only 
hurry  home!  Why  must  she  stay  away  so  long?  The 
old  woman  placed  a  pillow  on  the  sofa  and  then  hurried  to 
her  shop,  where  she  had  a  long  conversation  with  her  old 
friend  and  compadre,  the  Mayordomo  of  Manuel  Paredes. 
When  she  returned  to  the  room  she  discovered,  to  her  great 
amazement,  that  her  visitor  was  gone.  He  had  left  a  gold 
piece  on  the  table;  but  his  breakfast  had  remained  almost 
untouched. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    APPOINTMENT. 

AN  hour  later  Count  Carrera  was  in  the  august  pres 
ence  of  the  President  of  the  Royal  Audience. 

u  I  have  come,"  the  former  began,  "to  remind  your  Ex 
cellency  of  an  old  promise.  I  had  fondly  hoped  that  it 
would  not  become  necessary  for  me  to  trouble  your  Excel 
lency  with  a  request  for  its  fulfillment." 

"I  should  have  regretted  very  much  if  his  Majesty's 
most  loyal  and  most  prominent  subject  in  this  kingdom, 
had  never  given  me  the  opportunity  to  serve  him." 

"When,  years  ago,  I  had  taken  the  liberty  of  appealing 
to  your  Excellency  on  behalf  of  the  Seuora  Sanchez  and 
others  who  had  suffered  on  account  of  the  Rebellion  of 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OP    LIFE.  437 

1592,  your  Excellency,  while  regretting  the  inability  of  the 
government  to  comply  with  my  request,  assured  me  of 
your  Excellency's  willingness  and  desire  to  grant  anything 
that  I  should  ever  ask  for  myself.  Thus  far  I  have  had  no 
occasion  to  avail  myself  of  your  Excellency's  kindness;  but 
now  the  opportunity  has  arisen.  I  am  ambitious  to  dis 
tinguish  myself.  I  long  for  activity.  I  am  dissatisfied 
with  myself  and  restless  for  the  want  of  something  to  do 
different  from  the  routine  of  hacienda  life.  There  is  to  be 
an  expedition  to  Macas.  Its  commander  has  not  yet  been 
appointed,  and  I  beg  to  offer  myself  for  the  position." 

"  You,  my  dear  Count  ?"  exclaimed  the  President,  with 
unfeigned  surprise.  "You?  Would  you  really  exchange 
a  life  of  luxury,  of  ease,  and  of  pleasure,  for  the  hardships, 
the  annoyances,  and  the  dangers  of  such  a  command?" 

"I  wish  for  nothing  better,  and  I  only  hope  your  Ex 
cellency  will  grant  my  request." 

"  But  do  you  know,  amigo,  that  I  have  offered  this  posi 
tion  to  a  number  of  prominent  gentlemen,  both  Spaniards 
and  natives,  by  all  of  whom  it  has  been  declined  ?  " 

"  Then  my  offer.  I  am  delighted  to  hope,  will  relieve 
your  Excellency  of  a  serious  embarrassment,  provided,  of 
course,  your  Excellency  entertains  no  doubt  as  to  my  fit 
ness  for  the  task." 

"Not  the  least,  my  dear  Count;  but  I  am  too  great  a 
friend  of  your  family  to  allow  you  to  make  such  a  self- 
sacrifice.  AVhat  would  the  old  Marquis  say?  It  would 
kill  him  to  lose  }~ou.  He  loves  you  like  a  real  son.  You 
are  his  main-stay.  You  are  his  factotum.  He  would  be 
perfectly  helpless  without  you.  And  your  wife,  the  charm 
ing  Scilorita  Dolores.  She  would  be  in  despair  if  I  should 
confer  on  you  such  a  dangerous  appointment." 

"  On  the  contrary,  your  Excellency,  she  is  as  desirous  as 
I  am  that  her  husband  should  distinguish  himself  in  some 
civil  or  military  capacity." 

"  Yes,  of  coflrse;   but  not  such  an  appointment.     The 


438  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

chances  would  be  nine  to  one  against  your  return,  in  case 
there  should  be  real  trouble  in  Alacas." 

"  I  can  only  add  that  I  would  pay  the  expenses  of  my 
own  equipment,  that  I  should  serve  without  compensation, 
and  that  I  am  ready  to  leave  to-day,  or  whenever  the  troops 
may  be  ready  to  march." 

"I  could  not  think  of  it,  Senor  Count.  Your  wife 
would  think  that  I  must  be  a  monster  for  thus  depriving 
her  of  her  husband." 

"But  whom  would  yonr  Excellency  appoint  in  case  my 
own  application  should  be  unsuccessful?" 

"  Well,  we  might  fall  back  on  our  first  idea  of  making 
one  of  the  two  captains  who  will  go  the  commander  of  the 
whole  force.  This  will  be  the  proper  thing  to  do,  in  case  a 
man  of  prominence  and  distinction  can  not  be  found." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  degree  of  prominence  and  dis 
tinction  your  Excellency  requires.  Without  immodesty  I 
may  claim  that  I  am  not  without  either.  I  was  forced  into 
prominence  by  the  assault  made  upon  me  seven  years  ago; 
and  I  was  subsequently  distinguished  by  the  favor  of  my 
gracious  master,  the  King,  which  I  have  done  so  little  to 
deserve.  And  herein  lies  my  ambition.  I  wish  to  merit 
the  honors  which  have  been  conferred  upon  me.  I  long  to 
prove  my  patriotic  zeal.  If  your  Excellency  will  appoint 
me  to  this  command,  I  shall  not  only  pay  my  own  expenses, 
as  I  have  said,  but  I  shall  also  contribute  my  share  toward 
the  payment  of  the  costs  of  the  expedition,  by  placing  in 
jour  Excellency's  hands,  within  an  hour  from  now,  a  thou 
sand  ounces  of  gold,  to  be  used  solely  and  exclusively  by 
your  Excellency  for  the  best  service  of  the  King  in  this 
matter." 

This  offer  at  once  overcame  the  objections  of  the  greedy 
Spaniard.  In  fact,  he  had  waited  for  it.  He  would  have 
conferred  the  appointment  on  Carrera  for  nothing,  and 
been  glad  enough  if  the  latter  had  accepted  it ;  but  when 
he  saw  how  anxious  Carrera  was  to  obtain  it,  and  how  lav- 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  439 

ish  he  seemed  to  be  with  his  money,  the  sly  President  held 
back  on  purpose,  in  order  to  bring  about  this  very  result. 
Having  succeeded  at  last,  he  fell  on  Carrera's  neck  with 
affected  pathos,  and  gave  him  a  most  fervent  embrace,  ex 
claiming'  "  Count,  you  are  really  a  patriot.  The  King  has 
no  better  subject  in  this  realm.  You  deserve  to  be  what 
you  are,  the  first  gentleman  of  the  kingdom.  God  bless 
your  loyal  heart.  Such  a  noble  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  re 
calls  to  my  mind  the  palmiest  days  of  classic  Greece  and 
Eome.  As  much, as  I  regret,"  he  added,  releasing  Carrera's 
neck  and  seizing  both  his  bands,  which  he  shook  enthusi 
astically,  "•  to  yield  to  your  patriotic  request,  I  have  no  right; 
under  the  circumstances,  to  refuse  it.  You  have  made  my 
consent  an  imperative  duty,  the  fulfillment  of  which  I  owe 
to  the  KJng's  service.  You  shall  have  the  appointment. 
You  are  the  bearer  of  the  royal  standard  for  the  kingdom, 
and  it  is  quite  proper  and  just  that  this  post  should  be  as 
signed  to  you.  Your  commission  will  be  made  out  at  once. 
The  instructions  for  the  commander  have  long  been  pre 
pared.  I  can  hand  them  to  you  now." 

"  There  is  one  additional  favor  I  must  ask  of  your  ex 
cellency." 

"  Speak  on  !  " 

"  My  wife,  as  I  have  told  your  Excellency,  desires  me  to 
go."  This  statement,  Carrera  thought,  would  be  literally 
true,  although  not  correct  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Presi 
dent  would  naturally  understand  it.  "  Her  ambition  will 
soon  reconcile  her  to  my  absence.  .But  as  to  the  old  gentle 
man,  my  father-in-law,  I  fear  your  Excellency's  apprehen 
sions  are  well  founded.  I  should  not  wish  to  hurt  his  feel 
ings.  Hence,  I  beg  your  Excellency  not  to  let  it  be  pub 
licly  known  that  I  applied  for  this  appointment  myself. 
Let  it  be  considered  as  having  been  tendered  to  me  with 
out  a  previous  understanding." 

"  I  comprehend  !  Rely  on  me,  my  dear  Count.  I  not 
only  understand,  but  appreciate  your  delicacy  and  consid- 


440  THE    SECRET    OP    THE    ANDES. 

erateness,  and  honor  you  for  it.  Leave  the  old  gentleman 
to  me.  I  shall  set  you  right  as  far  as  he  is  concerned." 

Before  an  hour  had  elapsed  the  thousand  ounces  of  gold 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  President  of  the  Royal  Audience, 
who  immediately  transferred  them,  not  to  the  royal  treas 
ury,  but  to  his  own  strong-box,  from  which  they  did  not 
emerge  until  his  Excellency's  return  to  Spain  several  years 
afterward.  There  was  no  deduction  made  on  account  of 
Carrera's  donation  from  the  items  of  expense  that  were 
charged  against  the  treasury  in  connection  with  the  expe 
dition. 

A  detachment  of  the  two  companies  of  which  the  expe 
dition  was  to  consist  had  left  Quito  on  the  day  before  Car 
rera's  appointment.  Another  detachment  had  left  the  city 
that  very  morning.  The  remainder  of  the  force  received 
marching  orders  from  him  almost  before. the  ink  was  dry 
with  which  his  commission  had  been  signed.  Carrera  him 
self  determined  to  leave  at  once.  When  Dolores  returned 
home  from  a  round  of  visits  to  some  of  her  lady-friends, 
she  found  her  father,  Aunt  Catita,  and  all  the  servants  in 
tears  surrounding  Carrera,  who  stood  in  the  court-yard, 
booted  and  spurred  and  ready  to  mount,  having  delayed 
his  departure  to  await  the  return  of  his  wife. 

Determined  as  he  was,  his  courage  nearly  failed  him 
when  the  decisive  moment  came.  His  face  was  ashy  pale 
and  his  heart  almost  burst  through  his  breast  with  wild 
palpitation  when  he  stepped  up  to  her  and  said,  within  the 
hearing  of  those  around  him.  in  a  hurried  tone  so  as  to  give 
her  no  time  to  recover  from  her  surprise  :  "  Dolores  !  The 
President  of  the  Royal  Audience  has  seen  fit  to  appoint  me 
commander  of  the  expedition  to  Macas.  Considering  the 
favors  I  have  received  from  my  sovereign  and  his  repre 
sentatives,  1  had  no  right  to  deny  myself  to  this  call  of 
duty.  I  have  accepted  the  appointment." 

"Julio!"  she  exclaimed,  almost  overcome  with  surprise, 
but  whether  it  was  secret  joy  or  real  amazement,  that 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OP    LIFE.  441 

made  her  shiver  and  tremble,  Carrera  was  unable  to 
decide. 

"I  have  accepted  the  appointment,"  he  continued,  "and 
it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  I  should  leave  at  once. 
I  have  waited  to  say  good-bye  to  you.  You  will  soon  hear 
from  me  lay  letter.  Adios,  Dolores!" 

The  customary  embrace  now  followed.  Both  parties 
seemed  to  be  deeply  moved,  while  those  around  them  were 
sobbing  loud. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this?"  whispered  Dolores, as  she 
lay  in  his  arms. 

'•You  willed  it  so.  It  was  your  own  doing,"  he  replied 
in  the  same  manner.  "  This  morning  you  might  have  kept 
me.  Now  it  is  too  late  !" 

"And  what  are  your  intentions?"  she  whispered,  still  in 
his  arms  and  clinging  to  him  for  the  benefit  of  those  who 
witnessed  the  scene. 

"This  is  an  adios  forever  !  Farewell,  Dolores,  forever!" 
was  the  whispered  reply  with  which  he  released  her. 

He  had  walked  two  steps  from  her,  when  he  suddenly 
turned  back,  and,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  away 
from  the  group.  "This  paper,"  he  said  in  an  undertone, 
handing  her  the  lines  of  Paredes,  "you  must  have  lost,  or 
it  failed  to  reach  you.  I  know  the  writer,  and  shall  per 
sonally  give  him  your  answer  at  Riobamba.  Farewell!" 

A  few  seconds  afterward  he  was  on  his  horse,  and  dashed 
out  of  the  doorway.  He  was  followed  by  a  mounted  serv 
ant  and  by  the  Fool  on  foot,  who  would  not  allow  himself 
to  be  left  behind  by  his  benefactor. 

As  Count  Carrera  appeared  on  the  Plaza  in  front 
of  the  house  he  was  received  by  about  a  dozen  mounted 
soldiers  and  a  much  larger  number  of  friends,  who, 
having  heard  of  his  appointment  and  intended  depart 
ure,  had  come  to  escort  him  beyond  the  city  limits,  a 
custom  still  prevailing  in  South  America.  Soldiers  and 


442  THE    SECRET    OF    THE   ANDES. 

cavaliers  waved  their  hats  to  welcome  him,  and  shouted: 
11  Viva  el  Senor  Commandante  /" 

Carrera  waved  his  hat  in  return,  and  shouted  ic  Viva  el 
ReyT  ("  Long  live  the  King!") 

Then  with  the  old  Spanish  battle-cry,  "  Santiago  !  San 
tiago?'  the  cavalcade  moved  on. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN   OLD   ACQUAINTANCE   AND   NEW    DANGERS. 

PAREDES,  who  traveled  alone,  had  traveled  fast,  while 
Carrera  could  only  advance  by  slow  stages,  if  he  wanted 
to  provide  for  the  comfort  of  the  troops  under  his  com 
mand.  The  result  was  that  the  former  reached  Riohtunba 
in  three  days,  while  it  took  the  latter  thrice  that  time  to 
get  there.  When  he  arrived,  Paredes  was  already  on  his 
way  back  to  Quito.  He  had  loft  Riobaraba  as  soon  as  he 
received  the  news,  astounding  to  him,  of  Carrera's  appoint 
ment  to  the  command  of  the  expedition.  Paredes  had 
more  than  one  reason  for  avoiding  a  meeting  with  Carrera. 
The  supplies  and  provisions  which  Paredes  had  been  au 
thorized  to  purchase  for  the  maintenance  of  the  expedi 
tionary  force  during  its  march  across  the  Cordillera,  and 
down  the  uninhabited  slopes  on  the  other  side,  were  mis 
erably  deficient,  both  in  quantity  and  quality.  Paredes 
had  purchased  the  cheapest  and  the  worst,  for  which  the 
Government  had  been  charged  enormous  prices,  while  its 
agent  had  to  share  the  profits  of  this  iniquitous  transac 
tion  vath  the  President  of  the  Royal  Audience.  Most  of 
the  goods  were  found  worthless  on  inspection,  and  Carrera 
had  to  make  additional  sacrifices  out  of  his  private  means 
in  order  to  provide  for  the  absolute  necessities  of  the  men 
intrusted  to  his  charge.  To  inform  the  Royal  Audience  of 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OP   LIFE.  443 

the  rascalities  of  Paredes  would  have  been  not  only  use 
less,  but  dangerous  to  the  informer.  Though  this  was  Car- 
rcra's  first  experience  of  official  life,  he  had  learned  enough 
to  know  that  the  real  guilt  rested  not  with  the  criminal, 
but  with  those  who,  in  case  of  a  complaint,  would  be  the 
indulgent  judges  of  their  accomplice.  Moreover,  against 
Paredes  Carrera  did  not  intend  to  invoke  the  sword  of  the 
law.  It  was  his  own  sword  which  he  hoped,  some  day,  to 
steep  in  the  blood  of  the  villain. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  the  latter  was  safe  and  pros 
perous  in  Quito,  where  he  enjoyed  his  steadily  increasing 
wealth  and  the  favor  of  his  powerful  patron,  the  President 
of  the  Audience,  to  whom  Manuel  Paredes  was  a  much 
more  grateful  person  than  lie  had  been  to  the  Count 
A  ran  a. 

Paredes  had  returned  in  time  slily  to  contribute  his  share 
to  the  judgment  of  condemnation  which  public  opinion  had 
determined  to  pass  upon  poor  Carrera,  who  was  absent, 
and  hence,  according  to  the  French  proverb,  unquestion 
ably  in  the  wrong.  His  domestic  difficulties  had  been 
made  the  subject  of  endless  discussion  in  all  the  family  cir 
cles  of  Quito,  on  the  streets,  and  in  the  houses,  by  the  pa 
tricians  as  well  as  the  plebeians.  It  was  generally  asserted 
and  believed  that  for  years  past  he  had  treated  his  wife 
with  insulting  coldness  and  shameless  indifference.  He 
had  passed  most  of  his  time  away  from  her  on  his  haciendas 
in  the  country,  where  he  amused  himself  in  the  company 
of  low-born  characters  and  half-breed  or  Indian  women. 
During  the  short  intervals  he  spent  with  his  wife,  the  most 
amiable,  the  most  refined,  and  the  most  accomplished  lady 
of  Quito,  he  had  tormented  her  with  groundless  jealousy 
and  unfounded  reproaches,  invented  probably  as  a  blind 
for  his  own  derelictions.  He  had  nearly  broken  the  heart 
of  his  aged  father-in-law,  who  had  loved  him  as  fondly  as 
if  he  had  been  his  own  son.  He  had  applied  for  the  com 
mand  of  the  expedition  to  Macas  for  the  only  purpose  of 


444  THE    SECRET   OP    THE    ANDES. 

releasing  himself  from  all  restraint  and  freely  indulging 
his  low  and  immoral  tastes.  That  he  was  unfit  for  the  task 
he  had  undertaken,  nobody  doubted.  He  had  never  had 
any  military  experience,  and  should  not  have  accepted  a 
position  for  which  different  qualifications  were  required. 
There  were  at  least  a  dozen  men,  tried  and  skilled  soldiers, 
to  whom  the  appointment  should  have  been  tendered  in 
preference  to  Carrera,  to  whose  inexperienced  ambition 
their  better  claims  had  been  sacrificed.  Of  course,  it  was 
not  known,  and  would  not  have  been  believed,  that  the 
appointment  liad  been  tendered  to  all  these  men,  and  that 
for  reasons  of  indolence  and  unwillingness,  they  had  de 
clined  it.  Falsehoods  and  slanders  travel  with  the  rapidity 
of  the  lightning,  while  the  truth  advances  at  a  snail  pace, 
ever  unable  to  overtake  them.  It  also  became  known  that 
on  the  morning  of  his  departure  from  Quito,  Carrera  had 
called  at  the  house  of  Dona  Mariquita  Ycaza  for  no  osten 
sible  purpose,  and  had  taken  breakfast  there.  Why  he 
should  have  gone  there,  instead  of  breakfasting  at  his  own 
house,  was  eniirely  inexplicable,  except  on  one  hypothesis. 
Dofia  Mariquita  had  a  very  beautiful  daughter,  Mercedes 
Castro,  whom  Carrera  probably  had  desired  to  take  with 
him  on  his  expedition  to  Macas.  It  would  have  been  very 
easy  for  him  to  obtain  the  consent  of  a  mother  who  was 
known  to  be  mercenary,  but  her  daughter  had  led  such  an 
exemplary  and  almost  sainted  life  since  the  death  of  her 
seducer,  Roberto  Sanchez,  that  it  was  clear  that  she  must 
have  rejected  Can-era's  dishonorable  proposals  with  indig 
nant  contempt. 

Thus  public  opinion  had  worked  itself  to  a  high  pitch 
of  virtuous  indignation  against  its  absent  victim,  who  was 
universally  condemned,  while  everybody  overflowed  with 
sympathy  and  regard  for  Dolores,  the  injured  and  the 
crushed,  and  with  pity  for  her  venerable  father,  whose 
love  and  liberality  had  been  rewarded  with  such  unfeeling 
ingratitude.  Carrera,  who  had  always  preferred  solitude 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  445 

to  idle  gossip,  and  books  to  bull-baitings  and  cock-fights, 
ani  who  was  not  in  the  habit  of  proclaiming  his  real  or 
imaginary  wrongs  from  the  house-tops,  remained  without 
a  defender  in  the  elegant  circles  of  the  capital.  It  had 
become  fashionable  to  denounce  him,  and  thus,  as  usual, 
societ}^  pronounced  its  infallible  judgment  upon  the  merits 
of  a  case  of  which  only  one  side  had  been  heard.  Those 
who  knew  him  least  were  the  fiercest  in  their  condemna 
tion,  and  those  who  lived  in  the  most  brittle  glass  houses 
threw  the  heaviest  stones. 

And  now  we  must  follow  Carrera's  expedition  through 
the  almost  impenetrable  forests  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
Andean  Cordillera.  We  find  it  trudging  and  toiling  along 
the  wretched  track,  for  it  did  not  deserve  the  name  of  a 
road,  from  Sevilla  de  Oro  to  Logrono.  Both  cities  have 
since  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Over  the 
sites  once  occupied  by  them,  the  tropical  forest  has  closed. 
Their  names  have  become  mere  reminiscences  in  the  blood 
stained  history  of  Peru. 

Carrera  had  reached  Sevilla  de  Oro  after  a  long  and  ard 
uous  march  across  the  Cordillera,  and  down  the  slopes,  and 
through  the  forests.  As  usual,  during  such  expeditions,  he 
had  lost  a  considerable  number  of  his  soldiers,  and  a  still 
larger  number  of  his  Indian  carriers.  They  had  succumbed 
to  the  climate  and  died  in  the  wilderness,  where  there  were 
no  human  habitations  to  receive  them,  and  no  resources 
of  any  kind  from  which  to  draw  food,  shelter,  or  supplies. 

On  his  arrival  at  Sevilla  de  Oro,  Carrera  learned  that  the 
governor  had  proceeded  to  Lograno,  having  left  orders  for 
the  expeditionary  force  to  join  him  there.  At  Logrono  he 
was  to  receive  the  "  donations  "  which  he  had  demanded  of 
the  chiefs  of  the  Indian  tribes  under  his  jurisdiction,  as 
';  voluntary  contributions  "  toward  defraying  the  expenses 
of  the  great  festivals  which  he  intended  to  celebrate  in 
honor  of  the  accession  of  Philip  III.  The  white  settlers  of 
Logrono  had  evinced  a  most  rebellious  disposition — so  the 


446  THE    SECRET   OF    THE   ANDES. 

governor  thought — and  to  them  he  wanted  to  pay  his  first 
military  compliments,  as  soon  as  he  had  secured  all  the 
gold-dust  he  could  extort  from  the  Indians. 

Carrera's  men  needed  rest  and  recreation.  Having  toiled 
through  the  wilderness  for  weeks,  they  needed,  first  of  all, 
the  stimulus  of  human  society.  But  the  governor's  orders 
were  peremptory,  and  the  causes  for  which  Carrcra,  un 
der  his  instructions,  might  have  deposed  and  superseded 
him,  were  not  yet  clearly  established.  Nor  would  Can-era 
avail  himself  of  his  powers,  before  he  had  met  the  governor, 
and  had  heard  his  statement  of  the  controversy.  Hence, 
Carrera  determined  to  leave  those  of  his  men  who  were  too 
sick  or  exhausted  to  follow  him,  at  Sevilla  de  Oro,  while 
with  the  available  remainder  of  his  force  he  continued  his 
march  to  Logrono.  The  remainder  of  his  force  !  It  con 
sisted  of  about  one-third  of  the  men  with  whom  he  had 
marched  from  Kiobamba.  The  climate  of  the  forests  was 
an  insidious  foe  against  whom  even  the  loving  and  self- 
sacrificing  care  of  Carrera  was  of  no  avail. 

Two  or  three  days  had  elapsed  since  his  departure  from 
Sevilla  de  Oro.  His  march  was  tedious  and  toilsome  in  the 
extreme.  The  roads  were  almost  impassable — "  roads  for 
birds  and  not  for  men,"  as  the  Spanish  proverb  sa}*s — while 
the  country  seemed  to  be  without  inhabitants.  For  the 
last  twenty-four  hours  the  expedition  had  not  met  with  a 
human  soul,  except  painted  savages,  who  shrunk  away  from 
the  approaching  troops  and  disappeared  in  the  thickets. 
There  were  no  haciendas  to  be  found  along  the  road  after 
the  first  day's  inarch  from  Sevilla  de  Oro.  The  stillness 
and  loneliness  of  the  primeval  forest  had  become  oppressive 
in  the  extreme.  The  rains,  too,  increased  as  the  troops 
struck  the  heart  of  the  forest,  and  it  had  become  almost  im 
possible  for  the  soldiers  to  keep  their  weapons  from  rusting, 
and  their  powder  dry. 

Toward  the  close  of  their  third  day's  march,  when,  ac 
cording  to  the  assurances  of  their  guides,  the  steeples  of 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OP    LIFE.  447 

Logrono  should  soon  be  in  sight,  the  foremost  men  of  the 
van-guard  discovered  four  or  five  men,  who  emerged  from 
behind  the  bushes  on  the  road-side  and  hailed  the  soldiers 
with  frantic  demonstrations  of  delight.  The  soldiers  of  the 
van  rode  up  to  them,  and  were  soon  joined  by  their  chief, 
who  had  just  returned  from  an  inspection  of  his  long  and 
straggling  line. 

As  the  strangers  climbed  down  from  the  steep  hill-side 
to  the  left  of  the  road,  Carrera  was  struck  by  the  appearance 
of  one  of  them  ;  for  in  spite  of  the  hair  and  beards  of  these 
men,  which  had  grown  to  an  inordinate  length,  and  in  spite 
of  their  almost  unearthly  appearance  of  shagginess  and 
dilapidation,  he  recognized  the  never-to-be-forgotten  eyes 
of  Juan  Castro,  in  all  their  terrible  fierceness. 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  these  men  !  "  he  whispered  to  tha 
soldier  next  to  him.  "  Do  not  let  them  get  away  from  us. 
I  have  my  reasons  ! '"' 

In  the  meantime  the  commander  of  the  van  had  begun 
to  question  the  strangers  :  "  Who  are  you,  and  where  do 
you  come  from?  " 

"  For  the  love  of  God  !"  exclaimed  Juan  Castro,  "  Let 
us  have  something  to  eat.  We  are  nearly  dead  with  hun- 
ger." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from?"  continued  the  officer,  while 
some  of  the  soldiers  opened  their  saddle-bags  to  the  in 
tense  joy  of  the  strangers,  who  watched  every  motion  of 
the  men  on  horseback,  with  a  fierce  expression  of  greed, 
almost  painful  to  behold. 

"  We  have  been  hiding  in  the  forest  among  the  bushes, 
in  ravines  and  hollow  trees,  for  the  last  forty -eight  hours, 
and  have  had  nothing  to  eat  for  nearly  three  days." 

"  Why  were  you  hiding?"  resumed  the  officer;  but  he 
received  no  answer.  The  pieces  of  bread  and  smoked 
meat  which  the  soldiers  had  taken  from  their  saddle-bags, 
bad  created  a  contention  among  the  strangers.  In  their 
struggle  for  the  first  morsel,  two  had  fallen  to  the  ground, 


448  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

and  being  too  weak  to  rise  to  their  feet,  raised  a  piteous 
howl,  while  their  luckier  comrades  devoured  the  pieces 
which  they  had  been  able  to  snatch  with  wolfish  rapacity. 

Some  of  the  soldiers  on  foot  had  now  overtaken  the  van, 
and  supporting  the  strangers,  who  had  sunk  to  the  ground, 
strengthened  them  with  a  little  aguardiente.  But  the  poor 
wretches  did  not  cease  their  wail  until  food  had  been  given 
them. 

The  soldier  first  spoken  to  by  Carrera,  now  said  :  '•  Your 
Excellency  need  not  fear  that  these  men  will  run  away. 
They  are  more  dead  than  alive." 

"  It  is  very  strange  !"  answered  Carrera,  "  Very  strange! 
Jaramillo !  proceed  with  your  examination.  They  can 
speak  while  they  eat." 

The  officer  repeated  his  question :  "  Why  were  you  hid- 
ing?" 

"  For  fear  of  the  Indians,  Senor." 

"  The  Indians  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Grace,  the  Indian  tribes  have  risen  in  re 
bellion,  under  the  lead  of  the  Jibaros.  They  have  de 
stroyed  all  the  settlements  in  this  neighborhood  and  mur 
dered  all  the  inhabitants." 

"  This  is  terrible  news,"  said  the  officer,  turning  to  Car 
rera,  who  now  felt  that  it  devolved  upon  himself  to  con 
tinue  the  examination.  "  Had  yoa  no  time,"  he  asked, 
•'  to  take  refuge  in  Logrono  ?" 

"  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  our  souls,"  answered  one  of 
the  strangers.  "  There  is  nothing  left  of  Logrouo." 

A  general  cry  of  amazement  and  horror  followed  this 
announcement,  and  the  soldiers  crowded  anxiously  around 
the  newcomers,  who  continued  to  eat  with  unabated  vorac 
ity,  reckless  as  to  the  next  moment,  and  indifferent  to 
everything  save  the  morsels  of  bread,  which  their  eyes 
seemed  to  swallow  faster  than  their  mouths. 

"  Man  !  Thou  art  delirious  !"  said  Carrera.  <;  What  dost 
thou  mean  ?" 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS    OP    LIFE.  449 

"  It  is  true,  your  Lordship,"  said  Castro.  "  Logrofio 
has  been  destroyed.  The  Indians  took  it  by  surprise  dur 
ing  the  night.  Not  a  soul  has  escaped." 

"And  the  Governor?" 

"  His  fate  was  terrible.  They  seized  him  and  tied  him 
to  a  bench.  Then  they  melted  the  gold  they  had  brought 
as  their  donation  for  the  festivals,  opened  his  mouth  with 
a  bone,  and  slowly  poured  the  molten  mass  into  his  throat 
until  he  died." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Carrera  and  his  men 
stood  horror-struck,  while  Castro  and  his  comrades  con 
tinued  to  eat  as  if  for  dear  life. 

"  Did  you,  men,  live  at  Logrouo  ?"  asked  Carrera,  after 
a  few  seconds. 

"No,  Seiior,  we  are  outlaws,"  replied  Castro,  without 
reserve  or  fear,  "  fugitives  from  justice.  I  have  no  doubt 
your  Excellency  has  recognized  one  of  us  by  this  time. 
We  could  not  live  in  the  towns,  but  had  to  establish  our 
homes  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 'frontier- posts,  where  we 
were  secure,  and  could  hide  away  in  case  of  necessity. 
But  a  few  days  ago,  while  hunting  in  the  woods,  we  saw 
the  smoke  of  our  burning  cottage,  and  heard  the  yells  of 
the  savages,  and  we  knew  what  it  meant.  Had  we  not 
been  outlaws  we  should  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
barbarians.  But,  having  made  the  art  of  hiding  the  busi 
ness  of  our  lives,  we  knew  how  to  skulk,  and  were  more 
familiar  with  the  forest  than  the  Indians  who  had  come 
from  a  distance.  We  had  made  a  secret  pathway  between 
our  cottage  and  the  outskirts  of  Logrono,  where  we  had 
friends,  good  friends,  who  often  helped  us.  But  for  the 
Virgin's  sake,  <rive  me  another  swallow  of  aguardiente.  I 
feel  like  fainting." 

His  request  was  complied  with,  after  which   he  fell  to 
eating  again. 

"  But  if  you  did  not  live  at  Logrouo,"  resumed  Carrera, 
"  how  did  you  learn  what  had  happened  there?" 


450  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

"I  was  just  about  to  tell  your  Excellency,"  answered 
Castro.  "  We  intended  to  go  to  Logrono.  Outlaws  as  we 
were,  we  should  have  been  welcomed  as  men  who  could 
fight.  But  the  Indians  were  there  before  us  and  destroyed 
the  place.  There  is  nothing  left  of  it  but  charred  ruins 
and  smouldering  ashes.  It  was  a  slaughter  without  re 
sistance.  The  beasts  and  birds  of  prey  are  now  reveling 
on  the  corpses  of  the  residents.  When  we  reached  the 
place  where  Logrono  had  stood,  the  Indians  had  gone, 
probably  to  Sevilla  do  Ora,  and  to  this  most  fortunate  cir 
cumstance  I  attribute  our  escape.  We  searched  among  the 
ruins  but  found  nothing  except  corpses.  At  last  we  tried 
the  ranch  of  one  of  our  friends  and  found  him  helpless  and 
wounded,  but  alive.  The  fiends  had  left  him  for  dead,  and 
he  had  crawled  into  the  bushes.  They  had  made  him,  and 
a  great  many  others,  witness  the  horrible  death  of  the  gov 
ernor  before  they  killed  them.  Our  friend  had  learned, 
from  the  conversation  of  the  Indians,  that  their  rising  was 
to  be  general  throughout  the  government  of  Macas.  They 
had  conspired  to  rise,  at  the  same  time,  everywhere,  and 
to  destroy  all  the  towns.  The  chief  of  their  confederation 
is  Quirruba,  the  King  of  the  Jivaros.  But  my  friend 
heard  them  shout  for  Toa,  the  Shyri,  who  must  also  be  in 
the  plot." 

Carrera  felt  a  pang  shoot  through  his  breast,  as  if  an 
arrow  had  pierced  him.  Toa  here,  and  in  arms  against 
the  Spaniards,  and  he  in  command  against  her!  The 
vision  in  Mama  Rucu's  cottage  again  returned  to  his  mind, 
to  which  it  conveyed  the  terrible  certainty  that  he  should 
never  leave  these  forests.  He  had  felt,  thought,  and  some 
times  almost  hoped  that  he  would  perish  during  this  ex 
pedition;  yet,  when  the  dreadful  certainty  presented  itself, 
it  came  like  a  stunning  blow — stunning,  because  it  had 
come  so  sudden  and  unexpected. 

11  What  has  become  of  your  friend?"  he  asked,  after  a 
pause. 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  451 

"He  is  dead!" 

"Did  you  kill  him?" 

"  What  else  should  we  do,  your  Excellency?  The  poor 
fellow  could  not  go  with  us.  Should  we  leave  him  to  die  a 
slow  and  lingering  death,  or  to  be  found  and  tortured  by 
the  Indians?  It  was  a  Christian's  duty  to  put  him  out 
of  the  world." 

"  You  say  the  Indians  have  left  the  neighborhood  of  Lo- 
groiio?" 

"Yes,  Sefior!" 

In  the  meantime  the  main  body  of  Carrera's  force  had 
come  up.  The  detention  of  the  van  had  brought  the 
whole  expedition  to  a  halt.  The  men  who  had  listened  to 
Castro  communicated  the  news  to  those  who  were  behind 
them,  and  in  a  short  time  it  had  penetrated  to  the  rear, 
spreading  dismay  and  demoralization  as  it  went. 

"  Jaramillo!"  said  Carrera  to  the  officer  at  his  side,  "if 
what  these  men  report  is  true,  we  must  turn  back  at  once. 
We  are  too  late  to  save  anybody  at  Logroiio  ;  but  we  may 
still  be  able  to  come  to  the  rescue  of  our  friends  at  Sevill? 
de  Oro  or  at  Mendoza.  And  what  do  you  intend  to  do?" 
he  added,  turning  to  Castro  and  his  companions. 

"  For  the  love  of  God'!  Your  Excellency  will  not  leavo 
us  behind  in  the  wilderness.  Misericordia  !  Seiior  !  Take 
us  along,  for  the  sake  of  the  Holy  Cross.  We  can  fight, 
your  Excellenc3T,  and  we  know  the  roads  and  the  country." 

''  It  would  be  but  a  just  punishment  of  thy  crimes,  Juan 
Castro,  to  leave  thee  alone  in  the  wilderness  to  the  mercy 
of  savages  and  wild  beasts." 

"I  know,  your  Excellency,  and  I  do  not  deny  it.  Grod 
is  just,  and  my  punishment  will  come.  The  innocent  and 
the  guilty  will  be  punished  alike.  The  chances  are  that 
we  shall  all  perish.  Your  Excellency's  command  may  be 
overwhelmed  by  the  savages  and  we  may  all  be  killed, 
But  let  me  die  with  your  Excellency  and  with  your  men  ! 
Do  not  let  me  perish  alone !  Do  not  cast  me  out  in  the 


•452  THE   SECRET   OP   THE   ANDES. 

wilderness !  Lot  me  remain  with  my  own  race,  with 
whjte  men  and  Christians.  If  we  escape  I  shall  be  in 
your  Excellency's  hands,  and  your  Grace  may  deal  with  me 
according  to  my  deserts  ;  but,  by  all  the  saints  in  heaven, 
do  not  drive  us  away!  On  our  knees  we  implore  your 
Excellency  for  this  mercy." 

"How  are  we  off  for  provisions,  Jaramillo?"  asked  Car- 
rera,  without  seeming  to  notice  the  outlaws  who  were 
kneeling  before  him. 

"  Very  poorly,  Senor  Commander  !"  answered  the  officer 
spoken  to.  "  As  we  expected  to  reach  Logroiio  to-night, 
we  had  supplied  ourselves  for  only  three  days." 

"We  shall  have  to  kill  our  horses  if  we  find  nothing  to 
eat,"  remarked  Carrera.  "  Horses  are  of  little  or  no  use  on 
these  wretched  roads."  Then  addressing  himself  to  Cas 
tro,  he  added:  "Juan  Castro,  if  there  is  a  man  in  the 
world  who  deserves  to  be  hung  to  the  first  tree,  thou  art 
the  man  !  If  there  is  a  man  in  the  world  who  should 
order  thee  to  be  hung  to  the  first  tree,  1  am  the  man  !" 

"I  know  it!  I  know  it!  your  Excellency!"  groaned 
Castro. 

"But,  with  the  judgment  of  God  impending  over  us  all, 
I  will  not  attempt  to  be  thy  judge.  God  has  delivered 
tbee  into  my  hands.  I  shall  reserve  thee  for  the  judgment 
of  God.  You  may  assign,  these  men  to  such  .duty,  Jara 
millo,  as  they  may  best  be  fitted  for.  Perhaps  we  shall 
need  them!  And  now  let  us  turn  back.  The  clearing 
which  we  observed  about  an  hour  ago  will  be  a  safe  place 
to  pass  the  night." 

But  there  was  to  be  no  safe  place  for  the  men  of  Carrera 
to  pass  the  coming  night.  The  order  to  turn  back  hud 
hardly  been  given,  when  the  stillness  of  the  forest  was 
broken  \)y  the  report  of  an  arquebus,  from  what,  until  now, 
had  been  the  rear  of  his  line  of  march.  At  the  same  time 
the  thickets  along  the  road  seemed  to  be  alive  with  savages, 
with  whose  wild  war-whoops  the  tropical  forest  suddenly 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  453 

resounded.  A  hail-storm  of  deadly  arrows  poured  down 
upon  Carrera's  devoted  band,  which  \vas  at  once  thrown 
into  confusion.  It  was  one  of  those  attacks  from  which 
flight  is  impossible,  because  the  troops  were  surrounded  on 
all  sides.  They  could  neither  retreat  nor  advance.  They 
were  hemmed  in,  and  helpless  against  an  almost  invisible 
foe.  Their  powder  had  become  wet  and  nearly  useless,  in 
consequence  of  which  their  fire  was  weak,  and  did  little  or 
no  execution. 

At  last,  however,  the  elements  came  to  their  rescue.  A 
terrible  shower  of  rain,  a  perfect  freshet,  broke  over  their 
heads,  and  by  compelling  a  temporary  cessation  of  hostili 
ties,  afforded  a  respite  for  organization,  and  a  breathing 
spell  for  consultation.  Yet  this  rain  was  but  a  treacherous 
relief.  It  took  away  more  than  it  gave.  It  made  the  soil 
so  slippery  for  men  and  horses,  that  it  became  as  difficult 
to  move  on  as  to  maintain  a  firm  foothold  where  they  stood. 
The  garments  of  the  soldiers  hung  so  heavily  to  their  limbs, 
that  they  could  hardly  bear  the  weight  of  their  arms  and 
accoutrements.  They  could  not  reload  their  arquebuses  for 
fear  of  spoiling  what  little  powder  had  remained  dry.  And 
thus  they  stood  like  sheep  in  the  shambles,  helpless,  hope 
less,  and  suffering  all  the  agonies  of  despair. 

After  an  hour  the  clouds  parted,  and  the  rain  ceased.  It 
was  now  twilight,  and  swarms  of  mosquitoes  ushered  in 
the  terrors  of  the  approaching  night.  It  was  impossible  to 
reach  the  clearing  of  which  Carrera  had  spoken,  as  the  men 
and  horses  stumbled  and  fell  at  nearly  every  other  step,  cr 
stuck  fast  in  the  mire,  while  the  arrows  of  the  Indians  har 
assed  them  incessantly.  The  sufferings  of  the  disheartened 
band  increased  as  night  wore  on,  when  fatigue,  indescrib 
able  fatigue,  and  hunger  were  added  to  the  terrors  of  the 
situation.  It  is  under  such  circumstances  that  life  loses  its 
value  and  becomes  a  burden,  and  death  is  hailed  as  a  relief, 
gladly  welcomed  by  the  hopeless  sufferer. 


454  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 


CHAPTEJR  VII. 

THE    LAST    ENCAMPMENT. 

AFTER  days  of  fighting,  marching,  and  fasting,  the  little 
band  of  fugitives,  reduced  to  about  one-third  of  those  who 
had  marched  from  Sevilla  de  Oro,  reached  an  open  knoll 
where  they  might  rest  from  the  fatigues  of  pushing  through 
the  jungle,  and  recover  strength  to  plunge  into  the  tropi 
cal  forest  again.  Here  they  might  be  protected  for  a  short 
breathing  spell,  from  Indian  ambuscades,  and  from  the 
mosquitoes  which  were  unbearable  in  the  thickets.  The 
clouds  had  cleared  away,  and  some  respite  might  be  hoped 
from  the  drenching  rains.  The  sun  which  had  been  hid 
den  for  several  hopeless  days,  smiled  upon  the  fugitives 
again,  and  promised  to  dry  their  shapeless  clothes  which 
rotted  from  their  weary  limbs.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  on 
which  they  now  encamped,  there  was  a  mountain-stream 
sparkling  with  cool  and  limpid  water. 

They  had  dragged  themselves  to  this  beautiful  spot,  with 
out  hope.  The  instinct  of  self-preservation,  the  love  of  life, 
the  expectation  of  escape  had  long  since  died  out.  Their 
comrades  who  had  dropped  down  by  the  wayside  or  had 
been  poisoned  by  the  arrows  of  the  invisible  enemy,  had 
welcomed  death  as  the  end  of  their  intolerable  sufferings. 
The  preservation  of  life  had  become  a  matter  of  the  utmost 
indifference.  Death  had  lost  its  terrors  for  those  poor, 
emaciated,  foot-sore  creatures,  shaken  with  fevers,  bleeding 
from  suppurating  wounds,  and  panting  with  physical  ex 
haustion.  AVords  are  inadequate  to  describe  the  agonies  of 
their  march  through  the  pathless  forest,  with  its  quag 
mires  and  lacerating  creepers.  The  rest  of  the  grave  was 
infinite^  preferable  to  such  hardships.  It  was  only  the 


BOOK   IV.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS   OF   LIFE.  455 

fear  of  greater  tortures,  the  fear  of  being  captured,  and  put 
to  a  slow  and  excruciating  death  by  the  savages,  that  had 
given  these  soldiers  the  strength  to  persevere  without  sleep 
at  nights,  without  a  moment's  rest  during  the  days. 

But  now,  the  cessation  of  the  rain,  the  reappearance  of 
the  sun,  the  sudden  and  almost  unaccountable  withdrawal 
of  their  pursuers,  and  the  discovery  of  an  opening  in  the 
forest  which  promised  respite,  had  rekindled  the  spark  of 
extinguished  hope;  the  love  of  life  returned  to  their  de 
sponding  hearts,  and  the  hope  of  reaching  again  the  abodes 
of  civilization  revived  in  the  midst  of  despair. 

Another  discovery  gladdened  their  hearts.  There  was 
fish  in  the  mountain-stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  For 
days  they  had  trudged  forward  almost  without  nourish 
ment.  There  were  birds  and  game  in  abundance,  but  there 
was  no  powder.  It  had  either  been  expended  in  the  fruit 
less  contest  with  the  lurking  foe,  or  rendered  unfit  for  use 
by  the  rains.  The  men  had  gnawed  roots,  and  the  stems 
and  leaves  of  plants,  but  this  expedient  furnished  no  sub 
stantial  relief.  Those  who  were  not  too  weak  to  move 
about,  now  applied  themselves  to  the  stream,  and  with  nets 
improvised  from  the  remnants  of  their  linen,  caught  fish 
which  they  at  once  devoured  uncooked.  After  having 
somewhat  appeased  their  own  hunger,  they  caught  more  in 
order  to  relieve  their  comrades,  and  to  gather  a  supply  for 
the  following  day.  Those  who  had  become  too  weak  to 
walk,  attempted  to  dry  in  the  sun  what  few  rags  remained 
to  them  to  cover  their  nakedness,  or  were  engaged  in  manu 
facturing  a  sort  of  sandals  from  withes  which  were  to  be 
fastened  ,to  their  swollen  and  bleeding  feet  with  tough 
creepers  or  pieces  torn  from  the  belts  of  their  swords. 

The  Indians,  after  having  destroyed  Logroiio,  had 
marched  upon  Sevilla  de  Oro ;  but  the  Macas  and  Huam- 
bayas  tribes  who  were  to  join  the  Jivaros  and  their  allies  in 
this  attack,  had  disappointed  them  by  not  appearing  at  the 
place  of  rendezvous.  They  had  not  betrayed  the  plot  to  the 


456  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

Spaniards,  being  in  deadly  fear  of  the  Jivaros,  but  had  re 
tired  toward  the  Cordillera  with  the  intention  of  keeping 
out  of  the  way  until  the  result  was  known.  The  Jivaros 
waited  for  them  in  the  forests  near  Sevilla  de  Oro  for  a 
whole  day,  and  then  concluded  to  make  the  attack  with 
their  own  force.  But  this  delay  had  been  fatal  to  the  com 
plete  success  of  their  enterprise.  Had  they  made  the  attack 
as  they  originally  intended,  the  inhabitants  of  Sevilla  de 
Oro  would  have  shared  the  fate  of  those  of  Logrono.  Not 
one  of  them  would  have  escaped.  But  during  the  day  lost 
by  the  Jivaros,  the  Spaniards  at  Sevilla  heard  of  the  ap 
proach  of  a  large  number  of  savages  whose  intentions  could 
not  be  peaceable,  and  hasty  preparations  were  made  for  re 
sistance.  When  the  Jivaros  appeared  in  sight  of  the  town 
on  the  next  day,  their  arrival  was  not  a  surprise.  Still  the 
Spaniards  were  but^badly  prepared,  and  almost  without 
arms  and  proper  organization.  They  attempted  to  rout 
the  savages  by  an  attack  in  the  open  fields  outside  of  the 
town,  but  instead  of  routing  the  Indians,  the  Indians  routed 
them,  and  drove  them  back  into  the  town  with  terrible 
slaughter.  The  savages  entered  Sevilla  de  Oro,  set  fire  to 
the  houses,  and  laid  seige  to  the  church  on  the  great  square, 
in  which  the  inhabitants  had  barricaded  themselves  as  a 
last  refuge. 

Had  the  Jivaros  only  held  out  and  pressed  their  advan 
tage,  they  would  have  attained  their  whole  object.  But 
from  some  cause  which  the  historians  of  those  days  are  un 
able  to  explain,  the  Indians  suddenly  withdrew,  giving  the 
Spaniards  the  opportunity  to  evacuate  the  place  and  to  re 
tire  to  the  other  side  of  the  Cordillera.  The  settlers  never 
returned  to  the  deserted  town,  which  remained  abandoned 
forever  afterward,  the  same  as  Logrono. 

After  their  retreat  from  Sevilla  de  Oro,  the  Indians  di 
vided  their  force  in  two  bodies.  One  of  them  marched 
against  Mendoza,  the  inhabitants  of  which  saved  themselves 
by  timely  flight,  and  by  the  abandonment  of  their  homes 


BOOK    VI.      THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OP    LIFE.  457 

and  property.  The  other  detachment  fell  upon  Carrera,  as 
we  have  seen,  and  harassed  him  da}'  and  night,  as  he  en 
deavored  to  cut  his  way  through,  in  order  to  reach  the  shel 
ter  of  the  Cordillera,  where  he  might  put  himself  in  com 
munication  with  Hiobamba.  But  his  heroic  resistance  was 
of  no  avail.  His  advance  was  necessarily  slow,  and  the 
distance  which  separated  him  from  the  mountain  range  so 
great,  that  he  could  not  expect  to  reach  it  with  his  dying 
band  of  sufferers.  Hence,  if  help  did  not  come  from  some 
where,  unexpected  help,  for  which  to  hope  was  hoping 
against  hope,  the  position  which  he  now  occupied  on  the 
open  knoll  would  be  his  last  stand,  and  his  dream  in  Mama 
Hueu's  cottage  wrould  be  fulfilled  here. 

Carrera  lay  under  the  shelter  of  a  rock  and  rested.  He 
had  not  rested  for  many  days,  and  it  was  so  sweet  to 
stretch  his  weary  limbs  once  more.  How  delightful  would 
be  that  eternal  rest  when  all  weariness  was  at  an  end  !  He 
occupied  a  position  at  some  distance  from  his  comrades. 
It  was  the  .post  of  danger,  as  it  was  nearer  to  the  forest 
than  any  other  place  in  the  encampment.  Carrera  had  re 
served  this  post  to  himself,  because  he  was,  physically,  in 
better  condition  than  any  of  his  companions.  They  had 
struggled  between  the  extremes  of  intense  hope  and  absolute 
despair,  while  he,  no  longer  tormented  by  uncertainty,  had 
resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable,  He  knew  what  was  to 
come,  and  the  sooner  it  came,  the  more  welcome  it  should 
be. 

His  eye  was  on  the  forest  ahead  of  him,  which  he  scru 
tinized  with  close  attention,  so  as  to  give  the  alarm  in  case 
of  a  fresh  attack  by  the  Indians.  Many  of  his  men 
were  asleep.  They  had  longed  and  prayed  for  an  unbroken 
hour  of  sleep.  It  had  come  at  last,  and  Carrera  did  what 
he  could  to  secure  them  in  the  undisturbed  enjoyment  of 
that  precious  rest.  There  were  some  that  could  not  sleep. 
They  had  nearly  fallen  asleep  while  marching,  but  now 
that  there  was  an  opportunity  to  sleep,  sleep  had  fled,  and 


458  -  THE   SECRET   OF   THE   ANDES. 

they  tossed  restlessly  on  the  ground.  There  were  others 
who  were  delirious  with  fever,  and  would  soon  be  raving 
maniacs.  It  was  difficult  to  keep  them  quiet.  But  fortun 
ately,  or  unfortunately,  they  were  too  weak  to  disturb  the 
slumber  of  their  luckier  comrades. 

The  sun  had  set  with  the  bright  promise  of  a  clear  and 
rainless  day.  The  rays  of  the  moon  were  struggling  with 
the  twilight,  and  playing  tenderly  on  grass,  trees,  and  jun 
gle.  Although  determined  to  remain  awake  and  watch  for 
his  comrades,  he  was  too  exhausted  to  resist  the  overpower 
ing  temptation.  Fatigue  proved  stronger  than  resolution. 
An  irresistible  drowsiness  came  over  him.  and  soon  he  sank 
in  that  indefinable  state  of  torpor  on  the  dim  border-line  of 
sleep  and  waking,  when  everything  becomes  uncertain,  when 
dreams  seem  to  be  realities  and  realities  seem  to  be  dreams. 

He  thought,  or  dreamed,  he  saw  the  Fool  (who  had  de 
serted  on  the  day  of  the  first  attack,  and  had  not  since  been 
seen  or  heard  from),  bend  over  him  to  see  whether  his  mas 
ter  was  alive  or  dead,  and  then  turn  around  and  beckon  to 
some  one  in  the  direction  of  the  forest. 

"  Ingrate ! "  Carrera  muttered  in  his  waking  dream. 
"  Thou  hast  deserted  thy  benefactor.  Wilt  thou  betray  him 
now?" 

"  No,  Amo"  answered  the  Fool.  "  I  bring  help — rescue 
— salvation." 

"  There  is  no  rescue  for  me,"  continued  Carrera  in  the 
same  tone  of  drowsy  helplessness.  "  I  must  die  in  the  wil 
derness." 

During  all  this  time  Carrera  had  eeen  a  figure,  which 
after  emerging  from  the  forest,  stealthily  crawled  toward 
him.  It  was  an  Indian,  but  not  of  the  savage  race  of  the 
Jivaros.  Instinctively  and  unconsciously  Carrera  put  his 
hand  on  his  sword,  while  he  muttered  :  "As  long  as  it  is 
but  one  man  I  will  not  awake  my  comrades."  And  he 
dreamt  that  he  raised  his  sword  and  struck  at  the  ap 
proaching  cnem}*.  But  this  certainly  was  a  dream  only, 


BOOK   VI.      THE   WORTH LESSNESS   OF   LIFE.  459 

for  his  arm  lay  motionless,  and  his  hand  had  not  even 
closed  around  the  hilt  of  his  sword.  Again  he  had  become 
oblivious. 

He  was  aroused  by  a  whispered  call.  Some  one  bending 
over  him,  said :  "Amo!  Amo!  Do  you  recognize  me?" 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  recognized  the  face  which  was 
over  him.  "  Mariano  !  "  he  said  in  token  of  recognition,  but 
without  surprise  or  astonishment.  He  was  too  benumbed 
and  dreamy  to  wonder  how  Mariano  had  come  here,  and 
where  he  could  have  come  from. 

"  Yes,  Amo,  it  is  Mariano,  who  has  come  to  save  you. 
Open  your  lips  and  drink  this,"  and  while  the  Fool  lifted 
up  Carrera's  head,  Mariano  poured  the  contents  of  a  bottle 
into  his  mouth.  Carrera  swallowed  it  eagerly.  It  warmed 
and  strengthened  his  whole  system.  A  delicious  feeling  of 
languor  came  over  him,  similar  to  what  he  had  felt  after 
the  first  draught  of  Samarucu  in  Mama  Eucu's  cottage. 

"!STow  sleep,  Amo,  sleep  without  fear.  There  will  be  no 
attack  to-night.  After  midnight  the  Sh}*ri  Toa  will  come 
to  see  you.  Meet  her  down  by  the  stream  under  the  big 
trees.  I  shall  imitate  the  chattering  of  a  monkey,  followed 
by  the  shrieking  of  a  parrot.  When  you  hear  that,  come 
down  to  see  the  Shyri.  You  will  be  as  safe  as  in  your 
house  at  Quito.  No  harm  will  befall  you  while  she  is  near." 

After  Mariano  had  spoken,  everything  became  hushed, 
all  visions  disappeared,  and  Carrera  fell  into  a  long  and 
dreamless  sleep.  Was  it  to  be  his  last  sleep  on  earth  ? 


460  THE    SECRET    OF    THE    ANDES. 


CHAPTER.  VIII. 

FAREWELL. 

Carrera  felt  like  a  new  being  when  he  awoke.  His  faint- 
ness  was  gone ;  his  weary  limbs  were  rested  ;  even  a  feel 
ing  of  bodily  strength  had  returned  to  him.  He  arose  with 
out  pain,  and  cast  a  look  at  his  encampment.  Nearly  ail 
the  men  slept  with  the  exception  of  those  whom  the  fever 
kept  awake.  .Even  the  guards  had  fallen  asleep  at  the 
other  outposts.  Should  he  allow  these  guards  to  sleep? 
Why  not?  There  was  to  be  no  attack  this  night.  Had  he 
dreamed  this  or  had  somebody  said  it  to  him?  Was  it 
Mariano  ?  Yes,  he  must  have  dreamed  of  Mariano,  who 
had  told  him  that  after  midnight  he  should  see  the  Shyri 
Toa.  And  yet,  this  dream  was  so  life-like  and  so  real. 
Could  it  have  been  a  dream  merely?  Carrera  had  swal 
lowed  the  beverage  which  they  had  given  him.  He  still 
had  the  taste  of  it  in  his  mouth.  •  If  it  was  a  dream,  it  was 
the  most  vivid  he  had  ever  dreamed. 

While  thus  pondering,  he  was  startled  by  the  chattering 
of  a  monkey,  near  one  of  the  big  trees  down  by  the  stream. 
That  was  to  be  the  signal.  If  it  was  followed  by  the  shriek 
of  a- parrot,  it  was  nr)  dream,  and  he  must  go.  And  for 
sooth,  the  shriek  of  the  parrot  came.  Sharp  and  shrill  it 
broke  through  the  stillness  of  the  night.  Now  there  was 
no  doubt  of  it.  It  was  a  reality.  He  was  called  upon  to 
face  the  woman  who  had  loved  him,  and  whom  he  had 
betrayed,  and  whom  he  had  sacrificed  for  the  woman  who 
had  not  loved  him,  and  by  whom  he  had  been  betrayed. 
He  went. 

There,  under  the  da*k  shade  of  the  big  trees,  she  stood 
awaiting  his  approach,  dressed  in  a  tunic  of  coarse  and 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  4G1 

dark-brown  lienzo,  such  as  the  Napo  Indians  wore,  with 
her  arms  and  feet  bare,  with  no  ornament  but  the  gold- 
hoop  with  the  emerald  on  her  forehead.  Against  one  of 
the  trees  she  had  leaned  her  lance  and  bow,  and  the  shield  of 
hard  wood  covered  with  hides,  such  as  the  Jivaro  warriors 
used.  The  quiver  for  her  arrows  was  strapped  to  her  back. 
There  she  stood,  her  beautiful  face  still  full  of  intellectual 
ity,  but  with  deeper  traces  of  hardness,  hopelessness,  and 
severity.  These  harder  and  sharper  lines  his  treachery  had 
engraved  upon  her  countenance.  They  were  bat  faint  in 
dications  of  the  destruction  he  had  wrought  in  her  heart. 
Of  a,  princess  once  so  exquisite  in  her  sensibilities,  and  of 
such  refinement  of  thought  and  feeling,  his  faithlessness 
had  made  a  savage  Jivaro  warrior.  He  had  disappointed 
her  hopes,  blasted  her  existence,  and  thwarted  the  great 
purpose  of  her  life  His  punishment  was  just,  lie  had 
ruined  her  life;  and  his  own  life  was  ruined  in  return.  He 
had  driven  her  into  the  wilderness,  and  he  was  now  lost  in 
the  wilderness  himself.  He  had  defeated  her  -aspirations, 
and  shipwrecked  the  cause  of  her  people  ;  and  now  he  was 
in  her  hands,  a  helpless  victim  of  those  whom  she  com 
manded.  It  was  just  retribution. 

In  silence  Toa  awaited  his  approach.  When  he  was 
near  enough  to  distinguish  her  features,  and  behold  those 
wonderful  eyes  again,  that  once  had  looked  upon,  him  so 
lovingly,  and  now  looked  on  him  with  vsuch  sadness,  not 
with  reproach,  but  with  regret  a-nd  tenderness,  he  was  com 
pletely  unmanned,  and  prostrating  himself  at  her  feet,  he 
broke  into  long  and  convulsive  sobs,  which  shook  his  weak 
and  emaciated  body  as  the  storm  shakes  the  reed. 

Toa  Avas  speechless  Avith  emotion.  Her  breast  heaved 
heavily,  and  tears  choked  her  utterance.  But  she  Avas 
stronger  than  Can-era.  She  had  not  hungered,  toiled,  and 
suffered  as  he.  and  so  she  succeeded  first  in  regaining  her 
composure. 

"  When  we  parted  on  Mt.  Pichincha."  she  began,  speak- 


462  THE   SECRET   OP   THE    ANDES. 

ing  slowly  and  sadly,  "  on  our  return  from  the  cave  to 
•which  I  had  conducted  you,  neither  of  us  could  have 
dreamed  that  such  would  be  our  next  meeting." 

Carrera  continued  to  weep  bitterly. 

"  You  spoke  words  of  love  to  me  then,  Julio.  I  have  not 
forgotten  them.  Those  words  formed  the  short  and  sweet 
dream  of  my  life.  I  am  still  grateful  to  him  who  spoke 
them." 

"No,  no  !  Toa,  not  thus  !  "  exclaimed  Carrera  in  the  an 
guish  of  his  heart.  u  Take  that  lance  and  pierce  me.  I  will 
bless  the  stroke  of  death,  if  dealt  by  your  hand.  But  do 
not  speak  kindly  to  me.  Tell  me  that  you  hate  me,  and  I 
shall  bless  you  for  it.  Tell  me  that  you  despise  me,  as  I 
deserve  it !  Spurn  me  !  Curse  me  !  Trample  upon  me  ! 
But  do  not  speak  in  these  tones  of  kindness!  It  is  too 
terrible  a  punishment.  It  is  the  worst  of  all  the  agonies  I 
have  undergone." 

"  Rise,  Julio !  "  she  said,  bending  over  him,  "  and  do  not 
waste  the  precious  moments  in  idle  regrets.  What  is  done, 
is  done,  and  can  not  be  undone.  The  past  can.not  be  re 
called.  The  tide  of  time  can  not  be  turned  back.  You 
would  act  differently  if  you  had  to  do  it  again.  I  know 
you  would,  and  have  forgiven  you." 

"  Mere}7",  Toa,  mercy!     You  lacerate  my  heart." 

"  Would  I  not  act  differently  myself,  if  the  last  seven 
years  could  be  lived  over  again?  What  am  I  now?  I 
shudder  at  what  I  have  done  !  The  blood  of  thousands  is 
on  my  head.  I  have  wiped  the  Spanish  colonies  along  these 
rivers  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  I  have  secured  the  in- 
dependenee  of  the  native  inhabitants  of  these  forests.  But 
in  order  to  do  it,  I  have  shed  blood  like  water,  i  have 
slaughtered  men,  women,  and  children.  I  have  been  a  fury 
of  death  and  destruction  to  these  settlements,  and  among 
my  victims  is  the  only  being  whom  I  ever  truly,  fondly, 
passionately,  madly  loved !  But  no !  This  shall  not  be, 
Julio.  I  can  save  you,  and  I  will  save  you.  In  the  dis- 


BOOK    VI.      THE   WORTHLESSNESS    OF    LIFE.  463 

guise  of  an  Indian,  you  shall  be  led  out  of  these  forests  by 
my  trusted  servant,  Uma.    You  shall  live  and  think  of  me." 

"And  my  comrades,  noble  Shyri  ?  "  asked  Carrera,  still 
on  the  ground.  "What  is  to  become  of  them?" 

"  I  can  not  save  them,"  answered  Toa,  plaintively.  "  On 
the  other  side  of  the  mountains,  in  my  own  dear  home,  I 
was  an  absolute  Queen,  and  my  will  was  law.  But  here 
among  these  savages  even  their  rulers  are  slaves,  the  slaves 
of  iron  custom  through  which  they  can  not  break  without 
destroying  their  own  authority.  The  men  under  your 
command  are  doomed.  They  will  either  die  in  battle  or  as 
prisoners.  It  will  be  better  for  them  to  die  sword  in  band!" 

"And  is  there  no  escape  for  them  ?  "  urged  Carrera  en 
deavoring  to  rise,  while  a  sudden  attack  of  faintness, 
brought  on  by  the  effect  of  violent  emotion  on  his  debilit 
ated  and  broken  constitution,  caused  him  to  fall  back  to 
the  ground. 

"  You  are  weak  !  "  sighed  Toa.  I  have  ordered  fruit  to 
be  brought.  It  is  there,  behind  you.  Eat!  There  is 
enough  of  it  for  yourself  and  your  men  for  one  meal.  It 
is  all  I  can  give  you.  A  poor  gift  of  wild  fruits  is  the 
best  and  only  repast  the  owner  of  Atahualpa's  treasure 
can  now  give  to  the  richest  man  of  the  Kingdom  of  Quito. 
What  are  our  riches  to  us  now  ?  " 

"And  there  is  no  hope  for  my  men?" 

"None!" 

"  Can  we  not  force  our  way  through  ?  " 

"  You  are  surrounded  by  ten  Indian  tribes.  And  the 
victorious  warriors  of  twenty  Indian  nations  are  between 
you  and  escape.  Your  firearms  have  become  useless.  You 
have  no  bows  and  arrows.  Your  men  are  starving.  There 
is  no  hope  for  them.  But  let  me  save  you,  Julio.  It  is  all 
I  can  do." 

"  Would  I  ever  have  deserved  your  love,  and  woujd  I 
now  deserve  your  esteem,  if  I  should  be  base  enough  to 
abandon  those  poor  creatures  who  are  intrusted  to  my 


464  THE    SECRET    OF   THE   ANDES. 

care?  I  must  share  the  fate  of  my  comrades.  Be 
hold!"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  few  tattered  rags  still 
dangling  from  the  flag-staff  in  his  encampment,  plainly 
discernible  hy  the  light  of  the  moon.  "  There  is  the 
royal  standard  of  which  I  am  the  bearer,  distinguished 
and  trusted  by  my  King.  How  could  I  desert  both 
flag  and  comrades  for  the  purpose  of  saving  my  own 
miserable  and  wretched  life,  which  is  not  worth  saving. 
I  did  not  come  to  these  forests  to  save  my  life ;  I  came 
to  lose  it.  I  recognize  the  place  where  we  now  are.  I 
saw  it  in  a  dream  in  Mama  Kucu's  cottage,  the  night  before 
I  first  spoke  to  you.  All  I  then  saw,  has  come  to  pass  as 
I  saw  it;  all  except  the  end  ;  and  the  end  is  near." 

There  was  a  long  pause  which  was  first  broken  by  Toa : 
"Your  refusal  is  what  I  dreaded.  I  knew  you  would  re 
fuse.  It  nearly  drives  me  mad,  that  you  will  not  let  me 
save  you;  and  yet,  I  can  not  but  say  that  you  are  right." 

"  1  thank  you,  Toa,  I  thank  you!"  he  said,  embracing 
her  knees,  and  kissing  the  hem  of  her  garment. 

At  this  moment,  the  chattering  of  a  monkey,  followed 
by  a  parrot's  shriek,  was  heard  again. 

"This  is  the  signal  that  I  am  wanted,"  said  Toa.  "  My 
savage  allies  must  not  discover  that  I  have  spoken  to  the 
enemy  of  their  race.  I  must  go." 

With  these  words,  she  took  his  hands,  lifted  him  up,  and 
drew  him  into  her  arms.  It  was  a  moment  of  sharp  and 
bitter  anguish  ;  this  last  moment  of  parting  and  of  eternal 
separation,  with  all  the  regrets  of  the  past  and  all  the 
hopelessness  of  the  future  concentrated  into  one  deathly 
pang  of  utter  and  absolute  despair.  It  was  doubtful  which 
was  the  unhappier,  he  who  was  to  die  in  the  morning,  or 
she  who  was  doomed  to  live  on. 

"And  when  shall  we  be  attacked  again?"  asked  Carrera, 
as  she  turned  to  go. 

"At  sunrise !" 


BOOK    VI.       THE    WORTHLESSNESS   OF    LIFE.  465 

"  Shall  I  see  you  during  the  last  struggle  ?" 
"  You  shall !" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    END. 

THE  sun  had  arisen  as  bright  and  rosy  as  if  it  were  to 
shine  on  nothing  but  happiness,  and  not  on  scenes  of  cruelty 
and  carnage. 

Carrera  had  led  his  men  to  the  big  trees  down  by  the 
stream,  where  he  delighted  them  with  the  discovery  of  the 
fruit  which  Toa  had  left  for  them.  It  was  a  banquet  to 
the  starving  sufferers,  after  so  many  days  of  gnawing  hun 
ger.  They  felt  refreshed  and  revived,  and  strong  enough 
to  carry  those  who  had  become  too  sick  and  weak  to 
march,  under  the  shelter  of  the  big  trees. 

There,  where  his  meeting  with  Toa  had  taken  place, 
Carrera  took  his  last  stand.  This  position  afforded  the  ad 
vantage  of  water  to  wash  their  wounds  and  to  quench 
their  thirst  during  the  heat  of  a  protracted  contest.  The 
trees,  too,  promised  at  least  some  protection  from  the  ar 
rows  of  the  Indians,  while  the  clearing  into  which  the 
Spaniards  could  dash,  when  necessary,  without  exposing 
themselves  to  hidden  dangers,  would  cover  their  rear. 

Carrera  had  told  his  men  that,  from  what  he  had  ob 
served  during  the  night,  he  was  sure  of  an  attack  after 
sunrise.  The  enemy  had  harassed  and  pursued  them  until 
their  firearms  had  become  useless.  This  calamity  having 
come  to  pass,  it  was  probable  tha-t  the  Jivaros  would  risk 
a  hand-to-hand  engagement.  Hence  he  bade  his  men  to 
kneel  down  and  once  more  to  recommend  their  souls  to 
God,  before  whose  throne  the  next  moment  might  summon 
them  to  appear. 


466  THE    SECRET    OF    THE   ANDES. 

The  men  obeyed,  and  passed  a  few  moments  in  silent 
prayer.  It  was  their  last. 

With  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun  transforming  the  dew- 
drops  on  trees  and  grass  into  so  many  glittering  diamonds, 
the  Indians  had  emerged  from  their  hiding  places  in  the 
forest,  and  threw  themselves  with  piercing  yells  upon  the 
Spanish  position,  darkening  the  air  for  a  moment  with  a 
shower  of  arrows,  and  then  advancing  to  a  close  encounter. 

The  contest  was  short. 

The  Spaniards,  weakened  by  starvation  and  disease, 
were  soon  overpowered.  They  fell  like  sheaves  under  the 
scythe.  Those  that  had  not  been  killed,  were  reserved  for 
the  more  cruel  fate  of  prisoners. 

In  less  than  twenty  minutes,  they  were  all  overpowered 
but  one,  and  he  the  leader.  He  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
tree  under  which  Toa  had  awaited  him  the  night  before. 
Here  he  would  die,  after  selling  his  life  as  dearly  as  he 
could.  Many  an  Indian  warrior  had  bitten  the  dust  under 
the  desperate  strokes  of  the  Christian  knight.  At  last  one 
of  them,  upon  whom  the  others  looked  as  their  chief,  came 
up  and  shouted  :  "  Take  him  alive  !  It  is  the  Commander  !" 

A  rush  was  made  against  him,  but  again  his  sword  did 
terrible  execution,  and  kept  his  assailants  at  a  respectful 
distance.  This  last  charge  and  repulse  was  followed  by  a 
moment  of  anxious  suspense.  Suddenly  he  heard  his  name 
called.  "Julio  !"  a  familiar  voice  had  exclaimed,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  the  opposite  tree.  He  looked  up  and 
saw  Toa  in  its  foremost  branches,  with  an  arrow  drawn 
from  the  bow  and  aimed  at  his  breast. 

"God  of  mercy!"  he  shouted,  opening  his  arms.  "  Speed 
it  to  my  heart!" 

The  arrow  flew  as  he  spoke.  It  had  reached  its  aim. 
"  God  bless  the  hand  that  sent  it,"  muttered  his  dying  lips, 
as  he  fell  to  the  ground.  His  broken  he^w^had  ceased  to 
beat.  His  troubled  spirit  was  at  res 


£!     => 

5.  _M    I  g     %~>*    I  S 

Vo  i  uwunn  -\\xv  Sn.\  uwuan.iv> 


Oc 


